


Fifty Words for Murder, and I'm Every One of Them

by toomanysharks



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Clint is basically a bird, Contract Killer AU, Elektra's skill set includes murder and braids, HYDRA seriously has the worst tagline ever, M/M, Minor T'Challa/Sam Wilson, Natasha is goals, Pepper Potts is goals, Sniper!Bucky, Steve and Bucky talk about Harry Potter, Steve knows greek myths, bucky also knows greek myths, bucky knows about plants, bucky suspects steve is secretly a lumberjack, clint barton and the case of the avoidable typos, everyone is too sassy, human mess peter parker, listen I just wanted Steve and Bucky both being badass, murder squad, spoiler alert: there is murder involved, thor was a fashion designer in a past life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7481751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomanysharks/pseuds/toomanysharks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look, buddy, I did your job for you. I don't see why you're so bitter about this," Bucky said, starting the car and throwing his gun in the back seat.</p><p>"He was MY target."</p><p>"Not my fault I'm better at this than you," Bucky said with a smirk.</p><p>OR<br/>The Contract Killers 5+1 AU: Five times Bucky and Steve steal targets from each other and one time they work together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If You Wanna Start a Fight, You Better Throw the First Punch (Make it a Good One)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sprinkle_of_cinnamon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprinkle_of_cinnamon/gifts).



> A gift for sprinkle_of_cinnamon, lover of sass and badassery. 
> 
> The phrase "No mourners, no funerals" is 100% from the book Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo. If you are also a fan of sass and badassery look no further than the Six of Crows duology. 
> 
> Chapter title from "The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty" by Panic! At The Disco

Steve drained the last of his coffee. He crushed the paper cup in his hand and tossed it into the garbage. Sam hummed in approval. He still had a full cup of coffee because he had more self control than Steve. He also preferred his hot beverages closer to "has been sitting out for 5 hours" than "just came out of the pot" because he had a tendency to burn his tongue on hot drinks. Steve had no such weakness. He eyed Sam's cup, wondering if he'd even be able to stomach all the sugar and milk Sam had dumped into it. Sam narrowed his eyes at him and wrapped both hands around his cup, pulling it closer to his chest.

 

Steve frowned. "It'll be your fault when I die of caffeine deprivation."

 

"That's not a real thing. I'd bring flowers to your funeral if it was though," Sam said, taking a long gulp of his coffee.

 

Steve was contemplating knocking the cup over, because if he wasn't going to have coffee  then  neither was Sam, when the door banged open .  Director Hill stormed into the room  and t he new guy at the end of the table jumped and honest-to-God squeaked.

 

Hill came to a stop at the head of the table, demanding the attention of the room effortlessly. "Everyone have a nice weekend?" Nobody said anything. Stark groaned - he had been in the office all weekend working on some new prototypes and Hill had not given him a day off.

 

"I had a nice weekend," New Guy piped up. "Got to see my daughter graduate from second grade." He had a huge smile plastered on his face. Clearly nobody had sat down with him to explain the unspoken rules of the office. Rule number one was 'Everyone had a shitty weekend. Do not share nice weekend stories at the Monday morning debrief'.

 

Hill narrowed her eyes at New Guy. "Who are you?"

 

"Lang. Uh. Scott Lang? I'm the new Extraction Specialist," New Guy answered.

 

Hill nodded. "You're the new thief, huh? Shoulda guessed. You look like the type of guy who would have a rap sheet about a mile long. Welcome to the team." 

 

Lang looked around the table like he wanted to  point out  _ everyone _ here looked like they had a rap sheet a mile long. He wouldn't be wrong. He was obviously a quick learner because he didn't say anything out loud about it.

 

"Anyway, welcome to Monday debriefing everyone. We had a good week last week and I'm expecting another successful week from you. Stark has been working in the lab all weekend and it sounds like he's finally got some updates for us. Stark, care to give us a report?" she asked. She sat down and folded her hands neatly on the table.

 

Tony stood up with a flourish that was surprising considering he had probably skipped sleeping this weekend. "Alright. Here's what I've been working on." He swiped a hand across his tablet and into the air, flicking the image from his screen onto the wall. A 3D design of a rifle scope rotated around with specs lined down the side.

 

"We all know there's nothing more satisfying than menacingly telling your target to look at their tie and having them look down in horror to see the red dot of doom there; meaning a sniper is ready to blow a hole in them if they don't cooperate. But, this is wildly impractical for  the  more seasoned targets that you're trying to pick off from a distance without getting made. This new scope features a laser that is undetectable by the human eye unless you're wearing the coordinating gear. I can make the tech work with just about any glasses you want so don't worry, this amazing new advancement won't cramp your style," Stark said.

 

Elektra sighed. "This is wonderful, Anthony, really, but not all of us are snipers."

 

"Those of us who are aren't complainin'," Frank put in.

 

"Thank you, Castle, for your undying support. Elektra, darling. What can I say? You think the snipers enjoyed the ninja stars I designed a couple weeks ago that released microchip trackers into their targets? No, probably not. I can't please everyone at once and not die of exhaustion. At least not in the office anyway," Tony said.

 

"As long as we're complaining, I'm still waiting for an upgrade on my wings," Sam teased.

 

Hill cleared her throat. "Alright, that's enough heckling for your quartermaster for one day. Stark, thank you for the new gear. Now go to the lounge and get some rest before you pass out."

 

"Yes, ma'am," Tony said, throwing a sassy salute before clicking off his tablet projection and leaving the room.

 

"Now, we have a few new job assignments. Elektra, I want you on the French Ambassador. Just recon. Something is definitely off about him and I want to know what it is. He'll be at the gala event at the Met tomorrow night. Pack your bags, you're headed out today. Take Murdock with you in case things get messy," Hill said, sliding a file across the table to Elektra.

 

"Murdock? The blind guy I met in the lobby earlier this morning? I thought he was with Legal , " Lang interrupted. Maybe he wasn't such a fast learner after all.

 

Elektra smiled. "Matthew is a man of many talents."

 

"Lang, you're in the office today. You'll be touring the facilities with Pepper Potts. She used to be a field agent but she wanted to retire into an HR position for some ungodly reason. You'll be able to learn a lot from her," Hill told him.

 

"Rogers. I've got a local case for you," she said as she slid a file over towards him. He looked at the mission title printed on the front and frowned. "Wilson's going in with you for eyes in the sky, just in case anything goes wrong."

 

Sam snorted when he saw the file. "I thought I misread this, but it actually says 'The Prostitute Poisoner'. I can't believe it."

 

Hill gritted her teeth. "Coulson gets carried away when he puts files together."

 

Steve snorted  on a laugh. "So what's the job, then?"

 

"This man,  _ Wolfgang Von Strucker _ ," she said with obvious distaste towards his pretentious name, "is murdering sex workers. We want you to stop him."

 

"Alright, so what, is this a track him down at home and make it look like an accident kind of case then?" Steve asked.

 

"That's the problem. He's a nomad. We can never get a reliable location on him. And he's almost always in heavily populated areas so public assassination is a no-go. The last thing we need is more footage on youtube of our operatives doing their jobs," she explained.

 

Steve could tell she was dreading saying anything else about the job, which was strange because Hill was always a straightforward, no-nonsense kind of woman.

 

"Fair enough," Steve shrugged.

 

There was a silence that nobody seemed willing to fill. Hill sighed deeply before saying, "You're going to have to go undercover as a prostitute, lure him to a secure location, and take him out quickly and quietly." Her eye twitched, but she showed no other signs of finding the mission to be funny.

 

Sam, on the other hand, was unsuccessfully choking back laughter.

 

"You want  _ me _ to pretend to be a sex worker? Don't you think there are other agents better suited for this job?" Steve asked.

 

Elektra leaned across the table. "I'd like to know who  _ exactly _ you think is more suited for this job," she hissed, twirling a throwing knife.

 

"Definitely not you. No offense, but I think you'd have a hard time waiting to kill the guy," Steve said.

 

She nodded, sheathing her knife. "He does sound like the kind of scum I would kill on the spot," she conceded.

 

"Natchios isn't exactly this guy's type, anyway," Sam said. He had the file open and was intently reading the details. Because he was a good agent like that. "If it was going to be anyone but you, it'd have to be Castle. Strucker has been targeting male prostitutes and all of his victims are...well, they're rugged looking. Very masculine." Sam frowned hard. "It says here one victim survived the poison long enough to give a brief statement. He said Strucker picked him up, drove him to a remote location, and then as soon as he started...doing his uh...job....Strucker started reciting bible verses and telling him he was a sinner. He then stabbed the victim with a syringe and injected the poison. Dumped his body and drove away." 

 

Steve felt as sick as Sam looked.

 

"I'd be glad to kill the motherfucker," Frank seethed. "Where the fuck is he?"

 

"Castle, I still need you on the gang job. There's been some activity that suggests they're coming out of hiding and I need you ready. And besides, your self control is only marginally better than Natchios. This needs to be discreet. We don't want to attract any unwanted law enforcement attention to the workers in the area," Hill said.

 

Steve sighed. "Looks like I'm the guy for the job then. What's the timeline here?"

 

Hill started packing up her stuff. "Stat. Get it done tonight if you can." Steve nodded in understanding. "Everyone, read your case files for reporting guidelines and coordination times with Q. And for god's sake, keep yourselves out of Banner's med bay this week." She stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Come on Lang, I'll take you down to Potts. Everyone else, fall out. No mourners, no funerals."

 

Everyone responded with "No mourners, no funerals." Except Lang, who looked very confused.

 

"It means good luck," Elektra explained with a grin. Lang didn't look particularly convinced as he got up to follow Hill out of the office.

 

Everyone filed out of the briefing room. Sam got a huge grin on his face. "Come on, buddy. Let's head down to Tac Gear and see what Thor has in stock for your outfit for tonight's mission."

Steve sighed. It was a weird job. But it paid the bills.

 

* * *

Bucky  rolled his windows down. He knew it was a bad idea to have your windows open in a neighborhood like this, but Barton's car was a piece of shit with no air control at all and he was fucking steaming.The night breeze rolled across his face and he sighed in relief. He looked around. The street was still pretty empty ,  which didn't bode well for him. Natasha's intelligence had indicated their target would be in the neighborhood tonight, but he hadn't shown up yet. He drove a very conspicuous red mustang so Bucky knew he hadn't just missed him.

 

The job would be easy. Once the target picked up a date for the night, Bucky would follow the terrible red mustang . W hen it came to a stop he would get out of his own car, walk up to the driver side of  the mustang, and blow the target's brains out. Simple. Quick. He had Barton running a rooftop perimeter just to keep an eye on things, but Bucky doubted his assistance would be necessary.

 

There were a few guys loitering on the corner. Bucky hated words like "hooker" and "prostitute". He knew the best term would be "sex worker" but he hated that one too. They were just workers. Why qualify the kind of work they do? He wasn't a "murder worker". He was just a guy with a job, which happened to be taking out low life creeps of all shapes and sizes . 

 

One of the guys was obviously a pro. He had that 'hire me or just keep driving but don't waste my time' vibe perfected. He was a little twitchy, which could be expected in a profession where you got treated like garbage on the regular and there was some perverted serial killer out there targeting your co-workers.

 

The other guy was a newbie. His stance clearly said he was uncomfortable, and he didn't have that rough around the edges, streetsmart kind of look to him. The guy actually looked like he just walked out of GQ and onto the worst lit street corner in the dodgiest neighborhood he could find. His clothes were disheveled, but not in the same way the other guy's were. They were artfully ripped to show off a flash of his strong thighs, purposefully tight enough to highlight his toned upper body. It was all too clinical and poised and his beard was way too well trimmed to really pull off the look. He looked like he belonged in a lumberjack catalogue, wearing flannel and swinging axes.

 

Bucky was distracted from his lumberjack thoughts by a flashy red mustang rolling up to the curb. " Barton, he's here. You see him, right?" Bucky said into his comm. There was no response. Barton probably fell asleep on him. Natasha was gonna have his ass for that. You don't leave your teammates hanging during an op. Not that he was concerned about his safety; he could hold his own against a coward who poisoned innocent people trying to make a living.

 

Strucker rolled down his passenger window and leaned across the seat to proposition Lumberjack. Bucky was a little disappointed he couldn't hear the exchange because Lumberjack was about 3 shades brighter than the Mustang he was climbing into.

 

Bucky waited a few moments before starting his car and pulling away from the curb. He followed the mustang down a few winding roads out of the neighborhood and into a secluded park. "Can't wait to murder this asshole," he said to himself as he thought of all the poor people Strucker must have driven to similar locations before he poisoned them.

 

The mustang came to a stop in the shadows between two pools of light cast by the lamp posts on the park road. Bucky parked in the shadows just behind them and pulled his gun out of the bag on the passenger seat. He double checked the silencer and turned off the safety. He prowled up to the car, careful to stay out of the light cast by lamp.

 

He rapped his knuckles against the window with possibly more force than necessary. Strucker rolled down the window and Bucky wasted no time pulling his gun up and shoving the muzzle of his silencer against the asshole's forehead. Strucker looked satisfyingly terrified , but his passenger mostly just looked pissed. It wasn't a bad look for him.

 

Bucky made himself focus on the job. "You killed all those innocent people and you're going to pay for it." Strucker was praying out loud. "You're going to Hell, and God thinks you're a piece of shit," Bucky sneered as he pulled the trigger.

 

Lumberjack stared at him with his mouth gaping before it snapped shut in a thin line of anger.

 

Bucky sighed. "Listen, pal . S orry to put you out of the job ,  but he was planning on murdering you." He turned to leave and heard the car door open and slam shut.

 

" _ I _ was going to murder  _ him _ !" Lumberjack called, stalking after Bucky.

 

Bucky spun around. "I'm not a cop or a lawyer, but it doesn't exactly seem like a good idea to go around loudly announcing your intentions to kill people."

 

"It's my job to kill people. Strucker was my target," Lumbe rj ack said, only slightly quieter than a yell.

 

"Huh, guess that explains it," Bucky said with a shrug, turning his back on Lumberjack to get back in his car. "You need to work on your camouflage skills. You stuck out like a sore thumb; I had you pegged right away."

 

Lumberjack scoffed. "Oh, like your shitty surveillance  wa s any better. You were too close and you had your windows rolled down. I could clearly see you. I should have had my partner take you out."

 

"Look, buddy, I did your job for you. I don't see why you're so bitter about this," Bucky said, starting the car and throwing his gun in the back seat.

 

Lumberjack was still fuming. "He was MY target."

 

"Not my fault I'm better at this than you," Bucky said with a smirk. Lumberjack gaped at him again. It was less attractive than his angry face but Bucky was starting to realize Lumberjack could make anything look good. He had nice bone structure. Not many people could pull off the 'pissed off beyond the point of yelling, mouth gaping in silent rage' look ,  but he was somehow rockin' it. "Have a nice night!" Bucky said, slamming down on the accelerator and peeling out of the park before Lumberjack could say or do anything else.

 

He drove back into town to the emergency meet ing point. He had tried using his comm but Barton wasn't responding. Something was wrong with their gear, as per usual. He drove up to the spot to find Clint sitting on the curb under the street light.

 

"Having a rough night?" Bucky called as he came to a stop in front of Barton. He had a black eye and he was cradling his right hand.

 

"Fuck you," Clint shot back as he carefully climbed into the car.

 

Bucky assessed him closer. Something had definitely gone wrong. "What the fuck happened to you?"

 

"There was another agent there. He was running the perimeter for his partner. He had some fuckin thing that jammed the comm signal," Clint explained. Bucky pulled away from the curb and Clint groaned. "This guy had fuckin jetpack wings. He was fucking flying with fuckin steel wings."

 

Bucky hummed in consideration. "That's interesting. I ran into another agent too; musta been his partner. He was the guy that got picked up by Strucker."

 

"Shit," Barton hissed. "Did he fight you?"

 

"Not physically." Bucky laughed. "He was pretty pissed I took out his target right in front of him though."

 

Barton huffed a laugh and then groaned. "Well , at least you got the guy in the end. That's all that matters."

 

Bucky scoffed. "I always get my guy."


	2. Cut Out Your Tongue and We'll Call This a Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Why Am I Always Right" by Nightmare of You

Steve wandered around the apartment, taking stock of everything , but being careful not to touch anything. "No cameras," he reported.

 

"You sure about that?" Stark asked in his ear.

 

"I know what to look for. I don't see any recording devices of any kind," Steve replied.

 

"That's the problem with humans, Cap. They have a tendency to be wrong. Just use the watch scanner," Stark chastised.

 

Steve supposed he might as well use the tech if he had it. He clicked a button on his watch, and planes of recording-device-detecting rays burst from it. Or something. He didn't need to know the science of it, he just needed to know how to use it. He spun in a circle to capture the entirety of the apartment. It beeped and announced 'no recording devices detected'. He knew Stark had heard the device, and most likely saw the results pop up on his screen back at HQ in real time, but Steve felt the need to clarify the findings. "Well, looks like there's no cameras or bugs. That's wild. Who knew."

 

"Are you going to tell me you didn't enjoy using it?" Stark asked.

 

"Just a watch, Q," Steve answered. Which was a lie. It was so much more than a watch and he was amazed literally every time he used Stark tech, but Tony stroked his own ego enough, Steve wasn't about to add to it.

 

"Right. Just a regular watch," Stark seethed on the other end of his comm. "I'm your only backup tonight, and your regular watch is the only way I can remotely help you. It'd be a shame if you got into trouble and all you could do with that thing on your wrist is estimate the time of your own death."

 

Steve laughed. "This is a pretty standard op, Q. Isn't there someone else you should be backing up?" He walked into the kitchen. It was all black cabinets, dark granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. Not a dish in the sink or a crumb on the counter. Steve hated apartments that looked like they were made for looking but not living. He preferred his living quarters with a little character.

 

"Most other agents are out in the field with partners. And you never know, these drug runners can get a little wily sometimes," Stark answered.

 

Steve nodded even though Tony couldn't see him. He knew Sam was on a mission with Lang tonight. Really, someone else should have gone with them because taking a newbie like Scott out in the field so soon was a risk in itself. They should have taken someone like Trish out with them too. She had a rep for getting the job done and being patient with the fresh recruits. Which was surprising because Trish Walker was a take-no-shit kind of woman.

 

Steve sat in the chair by the lamp, his gun on the arm rest.

 

"Are you really going to pull the cliche 'I've been waiting for you in the dark corner' move on this guy?" Stark chided.

 

"It gets the job done. Nothing wrong with a classic," Steve answered.

 

Stark made a noise like he disagreed. "Garage door is opening. He's home. Good luck, Cap."

 

"Thanks, Q," Steve whispered into the darkness.

 

He heard the key in the door, and a voice he presumed was Zemo's, talking to someone else. Steve still felt comfortable with his odds - he could take down two guys. Then the door opened and four guys came in. Steve suddenly felt like the odds were not in his favor. They had been listed in the file Hill had given him and he knew for a fact these guys were brute strength at its finest.

 

Zemo turned the light on, but the overly large plant next to Steve's chair afforded him enough cover that he wasn't spotted right away. He considered his options. He could shoot the first guy, but leading off with the gun would undoubtedly draw attention to his presence and location. He had a garrote in his coat pocket that had been a gift from Elektra. He wasn't the best with garrote wires , but he was proficient enough to get the job done.

 

Zemo headed into the kitchen while the rest of his henchmen spread out into the living room. Two of them stopped to talk about a piece of art that Zemo had apparently recently acquired. They thought the rich tones were beautiful. Steve thought the lines were too delicate, the color was over saturated, and the artist had made poor use of negative space. Zemo turned on some music - Opera - that played from speakers throughout the apartment. It was strings and winds flowing and soaring over each other. It was nice. Much better than the art.

 

Henchman Number 3 was headed towards the bathroom and walked right past Steve. He silently got up and followed him into the bathroom. It was as clinical and cold as the kitchen - all pristine white porcelain. Shame it was about to get very messy. Just as Henchman Number 3 started to turn to close the door, Steve wrapped the garrote wire around his throat . He pushed him further into the room, closing the door gently with his foot. Henchman 3 scrabbled at the wire around his neck.

 

"Q, you still there?" Steve whispered into his comm.

 

"Yeah, Cap, what's up?" Stark responded. Henchman Number 3 tried swinging his arms out and Steve pulled the garrote wire tighter.

 

"Got a situation. Zemo had three of his henchies with him. I have one taken care of." On cue, Henchman Number 3 kicked a leg backwards in an attempt to escape Steve. "Dammit. Gonna get blood on my shirt," Steve sighed and pulled the garrote wire tighter, cutting through flesh and arteries. Henchman Number Three went very still. Steve released the wire, and the henchman fell face first onto the polished floor; blood immediately started pooling on the tiles of the bathroom floor. Steve turned and looked in the mirror. There was a splotch of bright red blood on his white t-shirt. He should have known better.

 

"What's the plan then?" Tony asked, an edge of excitement in his voice. He always wanted to go out in the field, but Hill refused to let him out. It wasn't that he wasn't any good on ops, he could definitely hold his own, but he was of most use in his lab.

 

Steve thought about the best way to eliminate Henchmen 1 and 2 without losing his chance at Zemo .  "This watch. Can you stun someone with it?"

 

"Can I use it to stun someone," Tony scoffed. "How is that even a question? You tell me when to stun and I'll stun a motherfucker. Just don't expect it to last long. I haven't done maintenance on your watch in a while and the stun feature loses effectiveness when it hasn't been charged, due to the unstable nature--"

 

"Q, just shoot when I say shoot," Steve interrupted.

 

"Got it," Tony answered.

 

Steve took a deep breath and pulled the bathroom door open.

 

"Did you seriously just not flush, Frankie?" Henchman Number One asked, a look of surprise coming over his face as he realized that Frankie was, in fact, not the person who was leaving the bathroom.

 

"What the hell," Henchman Number Two breathed, pulling his gun out of his holster.

 

Zemo turned and dropped his plate when he saw Steve standing in his living room. Steve pointed his gun at Henchman Number Two with his right and aimed his watch and Zemo with his left hand.

 

"Now!" Steve yelled as he pulled the trigger. He felt a small kickback as a shock of electricity shot from the face of his watch. Zemo yelled out in pain at the same time Steve's bullet bored its way through Henchman Number Two's forehead. Zemo fell to the ground. Henchman Number One was struggling with his own gun, having a hard time getting it out of its holster. He really should have been demoted to Henchman Number Three. He clearly wasn't the leader of the pack here.

 

Steve stalked past the henchman, shooting him twice in the heart and once in the head on the way by.

 

He walked into the kitchen to find Zemo collapsed on the ground, unable to move. The opera played on. "The Marriage of Figaro. Classic," Steve said, crouching over Zemo. "Although I can never remember the composer."

 

"Fuck you," Zemo spat.

 

Steve frowned. "For a man with such refined tastes you're awfully rude," Steve pointed out. "And word on the street is you've been running drugs all over town. Guess that's how you can afford this apartment."

 

"Killing me will change nothing. Cut off one head and two more shall grow in its place," Zemo spat.

 

"You know, the hydra's ability to regenerate heads and the number of heads it regenerated is actually not consistent across accounts. Although Euripides and Ovid both agreed the hydra would regenerate two heads so I guess you guys picked some pretty legitimate resources to cite there," Steve said.

 

Zemo looked very confused. "What are you even talking about?"

 

"Are you--" Steve had to take a deep, steadying breath. "Are you telling me you assholes don't even know the myth you based your organizational identity on?" Zemo just stared back at him which was an obvious 'no'. "Unbelievable. You know what, let two of you fuckers pop up in your place after I murder you. I'll be here, waiting; and I'll kill them too."

 

Zemo laughed in his face. "You'll accomplish nothing. HYDRA isn't run by drug runners like me."

 

"Then tell me who you work for," Steve hissed, pushing the barrel of his gun into the soft space under Zemo's chin. Zemo laughed, his whole body shook with it. "Fine, have it your way," Steve said as he pulled the trigger.

 

He had made quite the mess on the sleek, dark tiles of the kitchen floor.

 

"It's Mozart," Tony said.

 

Steve was confused for a second. "Right! Mozart. Can't believe I forgot that," Steve said, standing up and assessing his clothes. He had managed to get more blood on his shirt. "Thanks for the backup ,  Q. I'll be headed back to HQ to file a report. ETA 30 minutes."

 

"Gotcha. I'm gonna switch off for a little bit here. If you need me, just push the red button on your watch," Tony replied around a yawn.

 

"10-4," Steve said, pushing the sliding glass door open and attaching his belay rope to the railing. 

 

He took a moment to survey the evening. It was quiet, the sky was clear.

 

He noticed someone standing on the roof across the street from him, waving their arms. He squinted. They were definitely flipping him off. It seemed safe to assume he was in no real danger, because he would have died already if he was, so he flipped them off right back with a smile.

He repelled from the balcony down the side of the building, humming Mozart as he went.

 

* * *

 

Bucky settled down onto the roof top, situating his M40 on the ledge. He'd let himself up through the lavish apartment building, telling security downstairs that he was there with the satellite company, just doing some routine maintenance on some antennas. It was surprising how easy it was actually. He had expected at least a little resistance. But, then again, people who lived in buildings with rooftop gardens were usually blissfully unaware that people like Bucky actually existed.

 

He felt a tiny pang of remorse at having to lay on top of the Hostas, but they seemed to be pretty hardy, he was sure they would bounce back from it; and he needed his vantage point. A bed of sad looking tulips glared at him on his right. He looked through his scope. The target still hadn't arrived. He reached over and broke the automatic sprinkler that was in the bed of tulips - they were obviously being over watered. He didn't expect everyone to know that tulips preferred dry soil, but if you're going to plant a rooftop garden, why wouldn't you do some research about the shit you're planting? Fucking irresponsible. 

 

Bucky leaned forward to look through his scope, the butt of the gun resting comfortably against his shoulder. The familiar weight of  it put him at ease. Tonight's job would be easy. Wait for Zemo to get home, snipe him, pack up, leave. In and out. So ,  he'd told Clint and Natasha to go visit Claire to get more medical supplies to keep at the warehouse. They'd been running low.

 

Claire didn't necessarily like stealing from her day job to help out the contract killer she had found bleeding out in a dumpster in an alley one night, but she also didn't like said contract killer going around with serious injuries. So she stole from the hospital to help Clint, and by association Natasha and Bucky too. She knew they were doing good work, otherwise she would have turned their asses in or let them all die in dumpsters. Claire was an angel in scrubs and Bucky was very thankful for her.

 

She was going to give them The Look™ when they showed up and Clint had an unwrapped sprained wrist and Natasha had a poorly bandaged bullet wound from her run in with some gang members. Bucky was glad he was on this rooftop instead of Claire's apartment. Killing a scum bag was easier than withstanding the scrutiny of Claire Temple.

 

Bucky checked his watch again. He had seen Zemo come into his apartment and turn on the lights, but he had walked off into the kitchen before Bucky could get a clear shot.

 

His phone pinged, alerting him to a new text message.

**Hawkeye:** shes fowning at me

More texts came in rapidly

**Hawkeye:** shes browning at nat now too

**Hawkeye:** nat is crumbing under The Look  TM

**Hawkeye:** i think i jus heard her mummble that she is so done with vigilantes

**Hawkeye:** she just noticed my wrist she is v angry she thinks it might actually be broken

**Hawkeye:** send help

 

Bucky took a moment to laugh, first of all at Clint's inability to avoid typos, and secondly at his misfortune at being on the receiving end of Claire's tough love. He pocketed his phone without responding and looked back through his scope.

 

Still no Zemo.

 

He hated waiting to finish a job, but it came with the territory. When you were a sniper, you were used to waiting long hours for your target to move into position. Sometimes he regretted not going for a close range kill instead, but there was something relaxing about a long-distance shot that he enjoyed. There was movement in his scope, but it wasn't Zemo. It was a guy in a bloody t-shirt and a leather jacket. He was very, very familiar even in the dark cover of the night. He set up a belay rope and then stood there, looking around for a moment.

 

"Lumberjack," Bucky hissed. He stood up and waved his arms. If the Hostas could talk, they would have been protesting very loudly at his sudden change of position. It took a second for Lumberjack to notice him, but when he did, Bucky held up both middle fingers and thrust them forward a few times for emphasis.

 

Lumberjack just flipped him the bird and started his descent down the building. Bucky considered shooting his rope so he would fall several stories to his likely death, but he didn't kill people who didn't deserve it so he controlled his impulse.

 

"Oh, no no no," Bucky said on a strangled laugh. "You're not getting off that easy." He quickly packed up his kit while the tulips continued to glare at him. He ignored them.

 

He ran down the fire escape. It was less rickety and terrifying than others he had climbed, but it still felt like a death trap so he wasted no time in getting down to the ground. Apparently Lumberjack had taken his sweet fuckin time on his descent, because he was there unhooking his carabineers when Bucky finally landed safely on the sidewalk.

 

"Hey! GQ Lumberjack!" Bucky called as he crossed the street. Lumberjack looked around like he was trying to figure out who the fuck would go by GQ Lumberjack. "I'm talkin to you, fucker," Bucky said, pointing at him for emphasis.

 

Lumberjack looked around, raised his eyebrows, and pointed to himself. "Me?"

 

"Don't play fuckin innocent," Bucky hissed. "Did you take out Zemo?"

 

A flicker of recognition passed over his face as he seemed to finally place where he had seen Bucky before. "You're the one who killed the Prostitute Poisoner."

 

Bucky reared back a little bit. "Prostitute Poisoner? You fuckin kidding?"

 

"No. That's Coulson for ya," Lumberjack replied, as if that meant anything to Bucky.

 

"Whatever. Did you off Zemo? Because if you couldn't finish the job I'm sure as hell gonna make sure he's taken care of," Bucky said, shaking his bag of weapons to illustrate his point.

 

Lumberjack scoffed. "Yeah, I got Zemo; and his three goons too."

 

That really pissed Bucky off - he'd been looking forward to sniping the dickwad who had been running drugs in his town. He supposed the problem had been eliminated though, so he couldn't get too angry.

"Do you feel a little bit like the Wicked Witch of the West right now? Because you sound like her," Bucky said. Steve looked at him warily. "You know," he pitched his voice an octave higher, "'I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog too!' It's a classic line, except in this case, you said ‘I got him, and his three goons, too!’ Get it?"

 

"No, I got the reference. I'm just surprised you made it to be honest," Lumberjack said. "Hey, by the way," he pulled on his rope and it slid nicely up into a the attachment on the balcony railing. He pushed a button on his watch and the attachment fell from the rail. He caught it easily with one hand. 

He needed to ask him where he was getting his tech. "Why did you call me GQ Lumberjack?"

 

Bucky smirked. "Come on, don't be obtuse." Lumberjack stared at him, still obviously waiting for an explanation. "Jesus, man look at yourself. You have amazing bone structure, your hair is perfectly coiffed, and there's not a hair out of place in your beard. Hence, GQ. And then, just take one look at your fucking arms and try to tell me you  _ don't  _ look like the kind of guy who should be swinging an axe in the northwoods, chopping down trees to build a nice rustic cabin or some shit."

 

Lumberjack promptly turned a fantastic shade of red and Bucky remembered how endearing it had looked the other night when he was pretending to be a hooker. He had to admit, the blush was even cuter up close. The little splatter of blood on his neck was definitely more attractive than it should have been.

 

"Well, look, I have a real name," Lumberjack started.

 

Bucky put a finger to Lumberjack's mouth to silence him. "Shh, shh. I'm fine calling you Lumberjack. I can shorten it to Jack if you prefer," Bucky offered.

 

Jack looked down at where Bucky's finger was still on his lips. It took him a second to realize he needed to take his hand away from Jack's mouth.

 

"I don't prefer Jack, because I'm  _ not a lumberjack _ . You can call me Steve," he said as soon as Bucky pulled away from him.

 

Bucky sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. "Now you've done it, gone and spoiled the mystery for me. I liked imagining you in your flannel button up, rolled up to the elbows, working up a sweat chopping down Cherries and Oaks and Maples to build yourself a little cabin in the woods where you can drink Whiskey and roast the deer you shoot."

 

"Most log cabins are built with Pines and Cedars," Steve responded. It was unclear whether his response was honestly the first thing that came to mind or if he was trying to avoid the lumberjack imagery.

 

"I think you're lying to me about not being a lumberjack," Bucky accused. Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Bucky cut him off. "Listen, Steve, it's been terrible getting to know you. I wasted hours sitting on that rooftop waiting for Zemo to show up and you snagged him right out from under me. And now you've ruined my lumberjack fantasy. So really, I think I'm gonna go ahead and walk away before you manage to make me any more miserable." He turned on his heel and headed off in the direction of Clint's car.

 

"Did you just say fantasy?" Steve called down the sidewalk.

 

Bucky continued walking towards the car, but held up a middle finger over his shoulder in response to Steve's question. If there was a giddy smile plastered on his face, nobody had to know but him.


	3. Burn Everything You Love and Burn the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark" by Fall Out Boy

Steve looked up at the ceiling and regretted all of his life choices that lead him to this moment. He thought about standing up ,  but decided to stay on the ground and count ceiling tiles instead. He had a feeling standing up would be painful.

"Steven, are you okay?" Elektra asked, hovering over his head.

Steve groaned. "Yeah, I'm good." Elektra looked at him like she was not pleased with his answer. "I'm not sure if you want me to tell you that I'm okay and you didn't do any serious damage, or if you're looking for me to tell you that was a nice take down."

"Which do you think?" Elektra asked, popping a hip and raising an eyebrow.

Steve huffed a laugh. "It was a good take down. I'm glad you were listening when I told you to go for my legs earlier. It seemed like you were more interested in braiding your hair."

Elektra grinned. Steve had to admit the french braid did look very nice. "Oh Steven, I'm an excellent multi-tasker." She offered him her hand and helped him up with surprising strength. "Now, come over here and let me teach you how to use sai."

Steve fumbled through his lesson with Elektra on using sai. It wasn't that she wasn't a good teacher, she was clearly very skilled at using them, but Steve had a hard time making his body move in the same way hers did. He could be graceful, but this required a level of fluidity beyond what his frame would allow. Days like this really made him appreciate how carefully Hill had selected her agents. In the end, everyone could do their job, they were all accomplished mercenaries, but everyone brought something different to the team.

A bell sounded in the training room, signaling that the training round was over. 

"Thanks for training with me. Sorry it felt like a waste of time," Steve sighed.

"Training with you makes me think more tactically and strategically. You help me see the bigger picture during fights. It's very helpful. And as far as the sai - it's a difficult weapon to learn, but I have faith in you," Elektra said with a smile. "I mean, you learned how to use the garrote after all."

"Not very well," Steve said with a laugh.

Elektra rolled her eyes. "Well enough to kill a man, and that's all that matters."

"Fair enough," Steve said nodding as he headed over to the corner where the yoga mats were set up. Sam had already claimed the mat closest to the fan.

Sam stretched out his hamstring, leaning over his long, lean leg to reach for his foot. Steve let himself have one small moment of admiration for Sam's legs before he looked away. "Hey Ellie. Wanna do yoga with us? Might help you find your inner peace."

It seemed like Elektra was also taking a moment to admire Sam's legs because she missed a beat before responding. "I find my inner peace every time my sai pierces through a man's heart, but thank you for the offer."

"Anytime," Sam answered with a smile bright enough to light the training room.

Elektra gave Steve a knowing smirk. "Enjoy the views, Steven."

Sam looked up at Steve with raised eyebrows but didn't say anything. He definitely knew about Steve's massive platonic crush on him, but he never made fun of him for it. Steve was eternally grateful for Sam Wilson.

"Sit your pretty ass down and let's get to work," Sam said, patting the mat next to him.

Steve blushed, but did as he was told and followed Sam's lead to get into Child's Pose. "So you think I have a pretty ass, huh?"

It was muffled, but Steve definitely heard Sam laugh. They moved into Cobra. "Anyone with a pulse can see you have a nice ass, Steve. Don't fish for compliments, it's not flattering." Maybe Steve's platonic crush wasn't as unrequited as he thought. 

Sam lifted his legs and reached for his ankles to change positions to Bow. Steve copied him with slightly less grace. "How did your mission with Lang go?"

Sam let out a long breath before answering. He released his ankles and lay face down on the mat for a moment. Steve did the same because he had no idea what to do without Sam's guidance when it came to Yoga. Or most things, for that matter. "We got the ledger, so I guess you could say it was a success."

"What else could I say about it?" Steve pillowed his head on his forearms and looked over at Sam.

"You could also say it wasn't a clean extraction, he almost dropped the ledger when I picked him up, and we got shot at by some second rate security guards," Sam grumbled into the mat. He took another deep breath before rolling on to his side and doing a Side Plank. "Lang earned his codename though."

Steve mirrored Sam. "Now I have to know more. Nobody earns their codenames that fast."

"Hang on," Sam answered. He switched sides and repeated the Side Plank on the other side. Steve considered for a moment that with Sam looking away, he could easily skip this pose.

In the end, he decided to be a good friend and did as Sam did, doing a Side Plank and facing the rest of the training room. He watched as Matt and Elektra sparred. They were evenly matched in terms of speed and agility, so it made for a good show. Matt finally managed to land a blow, hitting Elektra squarely on the jaw. He abandoned his fighting stance and hovered near her, obviously not sure what to do. She looked back at him, the blood dripping from her split lip almost indistinguishable from her lipstick. They smiled at each other, Matt's bright and sparkling, Elektra's bloody and violent, and then they fell back into a steady rhythm of swinging and dodging.

Steve heard Sam release the Side Plank pose and took that as his cue to relax as well. He rolled over so he was facing Sam again.

"So ,  I drop him off on the balcony, unnoticed . T hen I'm just kind of, you know, lurking on the roof waiting for him to tell me he's ready to be picked up. He got into the office and picked the lock, no problem. So , he gets the ledger and I'm thinking to myself, 'Wow, this is going so well considering it's his first op'. Which is when everything started going downhill." Sam started doing some pose Steve didn't know the name of and didn't have the words to describe. Steve settled for watching his friend twist himself into a pretzel.

"You never, ever think good thoughts during a mission, Sam. We've been over this," Steve chided.

Sam sighed. He moved into another complex move because he honestly thought yoga was relaxing. Steve disagreed. "Right. I know. But I can't help but be optimistic sometimes."

"It's one of the things I love about you," Steve said with a smile. Sam scoffed at him.

"Anyway, all of a sudden Lang is screeching in the comm. Like, there is no way everyone in the mansion hasn't heard him yelling. I have no idea what's going on because all he's yelling is 'Ants!'. Literally, that's it." Sam released his position and moved into Child's Pose. Steve had to work hard to hear the next part of the story. "Then I hear gun shots. And now I am Very Concerned because gunshots were  _ not _ part of the plan and I'm honestly not even sure Lang has a weapon."

"Stark never lets anyone go out in the field without a weapon," Steve reminded him.

"I know that, but we didn't even stop to see Stark before leaving because this was supposed to be an easy job. Our intel said the safe was so impenetrable and that there was no additional security." Sam moved out of Child's Pose and flopped onto his back on the mat. "So then Lang is screaming, 'Now! Now! Now!', and then next thing I know he's jumping off the balcony. I had to swoop in and grab him before he fell to his untimely death. Although I was only able to grab his arm, and he got a dislocated shoulder along with the bullet wound in his leg, so maybe he would have preferred a face plant to the searing pain of that."

Steve grimaced. "Guess that explains why he wasn't in cross-training today."

"Yeah, he's with Banner in the med bay." Sam shivered, presumably at the memory of feeling Scott's arm being yanked out of its socket. "Anyway, I grab him and he immediately starts squirming. The wings felt really unbalanced and I wasn't sure we were going to get out of there alive because we were  also getting shot at by the shitty security guards that were in the mansion. Lang is down there, wriggling so much that the ledger slipped out of his hand."

"Yikes," Steve said, trying to contain his laughter. He knew it was wrong to laugh at the situation, but he also knew things must have turned out okay if Sam was telling him about it.

"He kicked the ledger, Steve. He fucking kicked the ledger." Sam stared at the ceiling for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "He kicked it up and fucking caught it. I couldn't believe it. We got out alive and we got the ledger."

Steve actually laughed now. "That has to be one of the best op stories you have." He continued laughing, even as Sam slowly turned his head and glared at him. "What was the deal with the ants though?"

"He knocked over an ant farm on his way out. And not just any ants. Oh no, not normal ants. They were fire ants and they were all over him, which is why his was squirming so much when I caught him. And that is how Scott Lang came to be known as Antman." Sam's mouth quirked up at the corner and Steve knew he was trying not to laugh.

Steve snorted. "Antman," he repeated. He tried really hard not to laugh, he really did, but in the end he couldn't contain the laugh that burst out of him. His shoulders were shaking with it. He looked over at Sam, actual tears in his eyes, and saw that he was laughing too.

"Are you two going to lay around swapping stories and giggling like school girls all day or are you going to do some actual work?" Hill asked. Steve wasn't sure when she had gotten to the training room, but she was towering over them with an unimpressed look on her face.

"Antman," Sam laughed out. Hill's eyes looked like she was laughing , but the rest of her face said serious business. Sam's laughter died in his throat.

"Wilson, take your wings to Stark. You need an upgrade." She dropped a file on the mat next to Steve's head. "Rogers, you're on this case. We found where Zemo's accomplice was keeping the drugs, and I want it taken down  _ yesterday _ , understood?"

Steve felt a surge of excitement at getting to take down another HYDRA agent. "Yes ,  ma'am. Thank you ,  ma'am."

Hill narrowed her eyes at both of them and then stalked out of the training room.

Sam looked over at Steve, eyebrows raised. "Antman," he whispered.

They laughed until they cried, even though it wasn't even that funny anymore. But they were contract killers and they goddamn well deserved to have a good laugh once in awhile.

 

* * *

 

Bucky barked out a laugh. "Oh, Sitwell. It's funny to me that you think you'll be able to get out of that chair." Sitwell strained against the ropes again and Bucky smiled. Clint had taught him how to tie about a hundred different knots , but had promised this one in particular would suit his needs. Clint certainly hadn't lied. The ropes didn't loosen at all as Sitwell continued to struggle against them.

"You'll never get anything from me," Sitwell hissed, fists clenched tight, forearms going red from the friction of the rope.

"Why don't you just stop trying to get out of the chair, Jasper. That right there is a Trucker's Hitch and all your squirming is useless against it." Bucky couldn't actually remember the name of the knot he'd used, but he didn't need to know what it was called, he just needed to know how to tie it. Sitwell spat at him. "Rude," Bucky sighed as he sat in his own chair across from Sitwell.

He pulled a rolling cart closer and unzipped his kit. He pulled out his knife set and unrolled it across the surface of the table. The Karambit was his favorite knife for close quarters combat, but he preferred using his longer bayonet blades in situations like this. They were harder to conceal so he didn't get to use them nearly as often as his Karambit or boot knives. He made a show of pulling the knife from the set and unsheathing the long, black blade.

"Tell me," Bucky said, running his finger along the spine of the blade, "Is HYDRA really worth dying for?"

Sitwell scoffed at him. "Cut off one head--"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah , two more will grow in its place. Blah, blah, blah. You can call me Heracles because I'm here to take you motherfuckers down." Sitwell shook his head, brows furrowed in confusion. "Ah, sorry, I forget that using his other name confuses people. Hercules. You can call me Hercules."

"I have no clue why a Disney movie is relevant to this conversation," Sitwell answered.

Bucky stood up in an outrage. "That movie is wildly inaccurate! I mean, Megara? Seriously? That isn't how that happened  _ at all. _ He kills her! He's actually a complete idiot and--" Bucky noticed Sitwell was getting less and less terrified of him the more he talked about Hercules. He wasn't even straining against his ropes anymore. "You know what, nevermind. It's irrelevant."

Natasha's voice crackled in his ear. "Why. Why are you like this? Do I need to come in there and do the job myself?"

"No, it's fine," Bucky snapped at Natasha. Sitwell looked very unimpressed.

Bucky leaned into his space, dragging the knife across Sitwell's neck. Not enough to cause any real damage, but the blade was sharp enough that a thin line of blood appeared in its wake. Sitwell was shaking now. Much better. "I'm going to give you a chance here, Jasper. Just tell me who you work for," Bucky whispered, trailing the knife along Sitwell's neck.

"Hydra," Sitwell answered on a shaky breath.

Bucky huffed. "Obviously, shit bag. I got that. Who's the brains of the operation though? It's clearly not you."

"Fuck you," Sitwell hissed.

Natasha's tinny voice chirped in his ear again. "Quit playing with your food. All the charges are set. Either get the information now or get the fuck out." Bucky nodded, even though Natasha couldn't see him.

"Alright, J. Last chance here, pal. Give up your employer or be prepared to be on very intimate terms with my knife , " Bucky threatened, digging the tip of his knife into the soft, pulsing spot where Sitwell's jugular was pumping blood.

Sitwell sneered. "Hail HY---"

Bucky jerked his knife into Sitwell's vein and dragged it across his throat, just to be sure Sitwell was sent to the depths of hell where he belonged. "Worst fucking motto ever. Terrible."

Blood had splattered all over Bucky's shirt, it was already ruined, so he pulled the hem up to wipe off his knife.

"You done?" Natasha asked, coming up behind him. Bucky was a well-trained assassin, so he did not jump and almost stab himself with his own knife. He did not.

"Jesus, Widow. No need to sneak up on your fuckin teammates like you're planning to murder them." He untied his rope, Sitwell's body slumping to the floor as Bucky pulled the last of the rope away. Natasha gave him a withering look. "Look, this is some high quality rope. Hard to come by." Natasha continued to give him an unimpressed look while he packed away his knife and threw the rope into his kit. "Hawkeye ready?"

"Affirmative," came Clint's response over the comm. "Took you long---" The rest of his snarky comment was cut off as their comms shorted out for a moment.

"We really need some new gear," Bucky sighed as he and Nat headed out the door.

Natasha pulled a remote detonator from somewhere on her person. Bucky still wasn't sure how she managed to hide shit in her suit but he was always impressed by it. "Why, so you can hear Barton's smart mouth all the time?"

Bucky laughed. "No, I get enough of that. I just can't help but feel like something is going to go terribly wrong and we're going to regret having shitty comms."

Barton landed gracefully on the sidewalk next to them. Where exactly he had previously been perched was a mystery to Bucky. "You can never get enough of my sass. And come on Winsol, you're gonna jinx us."

"Stop trying to shorten Winter Soldier. It doesn't work and you're awful." Natasha had a small smile on her face and Bucky suspected she didn't actually think Clint was awful. "You guys ready for some fireworks?" she asked, waving the remote detonator around.

"Light it up," Clint said, pulling his sunglasses down over his eyes. Bucky just nodded in agreement.

Natasha smashed the button down on the remote and the building came to life in a flurry of reds and oranges. A toxic, black smoke  rolled up into the night sky. They all looked on with smiles on their faces. "Alright, we better head out before the authorities arrive," Natasha said.

Bucky smiled. "You guys go ahead, I'll catch up with you later."

Natasha looked at him with an assessing gaze. "Don't do anything stupid."

"When have I ever?" Bucky asked with a smirk. Clint snorted out a laugh, throwing an arm around Natasha's shoulders. They headed off in the direction of the warehouse.

Bucky leaned against a tree and lit a cigarette. He only had to wait a few minutes before he was rewarded for his patience.

"Fancy meeting you here," Lumberjack -- Steve deadpanned.

Bucky turned around to see Steve standing in the shadows of the trees. "Hey, Jack." He held up the cigarette. "I don't actually smoke but I thought it would look really cool if I was holding this when you showed up. What do you think?"

"In theory it looks cool, but smoking is a deal breaker for me," Steve answered.

Bucky considered taking a drag of the cigarette just to fuck with him, but decided against it. He didn't actually enjoy having his mouth taste like an ashtray. "So, did you come to roast some marshmallows? Make some s'mores?"

Steve sighed. "Did you at least make sure Sitwell was dead before you set fire to the building?"

"Oh, I wasn't the one to start this beautiful, blazing, fire," Bucky corrected. Steve gave him a look that strongly resembled Natasha's 'not impressed' stare. "Come on man, what do you think I'm an armature? Of course I made sure he was dead. Where do you think all this blood came from?"

"Never can be sure," Steve answered, but he gave Bucky a once over. Bucky was maybe more pleased than he should have been to notice it was not a professional 'is this guy okay and does he pose a threat to me' kind of once over. It was more of a 'goddammit why do I find blood soaked t-shirts so attractive' once over. "So should I be concerned that you're following me?"

Bucky laughed. "I wouldn't call it following. It's more like some weird twist of fate where we're both after the same Hydra agents at the same time."

"Mmhmm. Any chance I could get your name by some weird twist of fate?" Steve asked. Bucky might have blushed.

"Oh Steve," Bucky said with a smile, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "You're even more of a charmer than I remember." Steve looked at him expectantly. "I don't just give my name out on the third incidence of target theft though. I guess I'm old fashioned like that." Sirens wailed in the distance. They didn't have long until law enforcement and emergency services arrived.

Steve laughed, the kind of laugh that was so infectious it made you want to laugh along. "Yeah, a real class act." He backed into the cover of the trees, his face getting harder and harder to see in the dark of the night. "Guess I'll have to keep calling you Sexy Sniper then."

"What?!" Bucky shrieked. "Sexy Sniper? Are you kidding me?"

There was no response from the forest, so Bucky was assuming Steve had either made a hasty retreat into the trees or he was purposefully not responding. The sirens were closing in and Bucky didn't have time to chase down hot lumberjack assassins. He needed to get out of here.

"Until we meet again, Lumberjack!" he called, blowing a kiss into the treeline.

He thought he heard a laugh - the kind that made a smile creep onto his face - as he rushed away from the fire and into the night.


	4. Sing You a Lullaby Where You Die at the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Milk and Cookies" by Melanie Martinez

Steve had three steaming, fresh cups of coffee sitting in front of him because he decided having enough coffee to get through the Monday Morning Debrief was more important than not looking like a selfish dick. Sam gave him a withering look over the brim of his own cup of coffee. Steve felt no remorse.

Director Hill walked into the board room, Pepper Potts easily keeping pace with her. "We need some new recruits, Potts. We have more cases than we can handle with our available agents, and we are seriously lacking in some departments."

"Yes, Director Hill," Pepper said, nodding along and taking notes on a tablet. "I completely agree. We all know Wade is trying his hardest, but one man can't carry an Espionage department alone." She tapped more things into her tablet as Hill took a seat at the head of the table. "I understand it's not ideal right now, but we can't exactly take an ad out on Craigslist for spies."

Hill stared Pepper dead in the eyes. "Potts, I know for a  _ fact _ you were one of our greatest agents. You handled much more challenging assignments than an employment shortage. Use your resources. I know you'll get it done."

"Yes, Director Hill." Pepper turned on her heel and walked out of the room. Steve couldn't help but notice the pink blush sitting high on her cheeks.

Hill sighed at everyone. "Alright, did everyone have a good weekend?" In unison, all heads turned to look at Scott Lang. He had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. Maybe he wasn't such a slow learner after all. "Good. Onto more important things. As you all are well aware, our field agents have spent the last few weeks working to take down Hydra operatives of all ranks. In the cases in which there was anything left to investigate---" she glared at Steve as if it was HIS fault that Sexy Sniper had burned down Sitwell's operation. "---we have sent in our lead Research Analysts, Jane Foster and Karen Page. They've been able to link all of our targets to a mysterious entity known as the Red Skull. It is unclear if the Red Skull is another organization or---"

"He's a person," Elektra interrupted. It took her a second to realize she had spoken out of turn. "I'm sorry, Director Hill. Please excuse me."

"No, it's okay. Although I'm curious to know how you're certain the Red Skull is a person." She looked at Elektra with a piercing gaze that said 'this better be worth my time'.

Elektra wrapped her hands around her coffee cup. "When Matthew and I were on the recon mission at the Met, we ran into a man who went by the name Zola. He told us he was disappointed the Red Skull wouldn't be making an appearance at the gala, since he was a close personal friend of the man. We thought nothing of it at the time , but I see now we should have pressed for more information." She looked down at the table with a frown on her face.

"Natchios. Don't beat yourself up over this. You're a great agent and you were there to focus on the ambassador. This information is invaluable to us." Hill opened her tablet and began an in-office video call with someone, tapping her neatly painted nails on the table in frustration when it rang more than 3 times. Finally, someone picked up on the other end. "Stark," she snapped.

Tony sounded exhausted on the other line. "Director. To what do I owe this video chat? I'm assuming it's because a simple phone call wouldn't have generated quite the same amount of fear as the current look on your face, so maybe it was a good choice." Hill frowned harder. "Alright, enough fear has been struck into my heart. What's the sitch?"

"How are things coming on that assignment you proposed the other day?"

Stark huffed. "You're interrupting a staff meeting to ask me about the AI project?"

"No, I'm interrupting a staff meeting to let you know you need to help Wade Wilson get as much intelligence as possible on a man who goes by Zola. The AI came to mind because it sure would be helpful in a situation like this," Hill answered.

"Right." Tony sounded properly embarrassed. Steve wished he could see his face. "Well, as it turns out, it's more difficult than anticipated, especially when I have other projects cropping up like force field technology and flame thrower lighters. I mean, a man's gotta rest and refuel occasionally."

"Then put Parker on the job. You have an intern for a reason." There was a squeak in the background followed by a clattering of tools falling to the ground. Clearly Peter's fear of Hill had not diminished in the time he had been working for her. "And Stark, we all know you subsist on snark and caffeine. Just get the job done." She hung up before Tony was able to say anything else. A notification sounded from her tablet and relief flashed across her face before she schooled it back into the intimidating mask she so often wore. "On an unrelated note, I'd like to let you all know that T'Challa will be returning from his undercover mission this evening."

A sigh of relief washed over the room. "Who's T'Challa?" All eyes turned to Lang and Steve could tell Scott immediately regretted asking.

"T'Challa is one of the most accomplished assassins you'll ever meet. He hates to admit it, but he's also our best Diplomat," Sam explained. "He's been undercover for the last few weeks, but we lost contact 8 days in."

Lang nodded in understanding. "What was he investigating, exactly?"

"Not so much a 'what' as a 'who'. A crime boss of sorts. Real crazy dude." Sam took a sip of his coffee. His cup was still almost full and Steve was trying not to be bitter about his own two empty cups. "What's his name again? Something stupid sounding..."

"Johann Schmidt." Steve gritted his teeth, thinking of all the things that were vaguely tied to him but were impossible to pin to him. He hoped T'Challa had been able to get some intel on the guy. They badly needed it.

"He'll probably hate you," Hill said dismissively. Lang frowned, clearly unsure of how to respond to that revelation.

Sam smiled. "Don't worry man, he hated us all in the beginning."

"He still hates me," Frank put in. "I think maybe you're biased."

"Why would I be biased?" Sam was genuinely confused. Steve laughed. For a guy who was so adept at handling emotions when it came to other people, he was blissfully oblivious when it came to his own life.

Hill cleared her throat. "Rogers, Wilson, you're on call. The second we get any information on Zola I want you both ready to move. As for the rest of you, work with Coulson to schedule a time for mission reports on your current ops. He'll keep me updated. Watch your backs out there; no mourners, no funerals."

"No mourners, no funerals," Steve responded along with everyone else. Hill briskly stood up and left the room, most people filing out behind her.

Sam turned to Steve, eyebrows furrowed. "For real though, why would I be biased about T'Challa?"

Steve groaned, standing up and leaving Sam alone at the table. "You'll figure it out eventually, buddy."

"That is not helpful!" Sam called after him. Steve laughed and headed for the gym. He may not be able to handle emotions, but he sure could beat the shit out of a punching bag.

 

* * *

 

Bucky strolled down the street, hands in his pockets. "Alright, Zola frequents a coffee shop called Brew, Tea, and the Beast. It's a few blocks up on your right," Natasha's voice crackled in his ear.

Bucky scoffed. "Who knew crime lords posing as politicians would enjoy coffee shops with Disney puns for a name. What have we got on this guy?"

"He's definitely linked with Zemo, Sitwell, and, surprisingly enough, Strucker too." There was a shuffling in the background. "I'm working on another connection, but I have to go stalk her for a while to be sure."

"Of course Strucker was Hydra. What a dick." Bucky smiled at the memory of shooting that guy.

"Yeah, but the prostitute thing wasn't even his job with Hydra. He was---" There was an obscene amount of crackling in Bucky's comm. "--- branch of the operation."

Bucky sighed. "We have awful tech and I just missed half of what you said. I'm going to assume it was further confirmation that Strucker was a piece of shit human."

"Accurate on both counts there, champ. I still feel bad that Barton couldn't go with you for back up." She sounded as apologetic as she ever had - which is to say, not apologetic at all. Bucky could hear the genuine concern in her voice though.

"Listen Widow, this is the price we pay for having a death squad trio. Sometimes we have to split up and do shit alone if we ever want to get everything done. I'm a big boy, I can take down a little man with no combat experience and no security; you don't have to worry about me." He could see a bunch of tables lining the sidewalk ahead of him, all of them with fake red roses in little glass cases. It seemed safe to assume he was coming up on Brew, Tea, and the Beast.

Nat frowned on the other end. He couldn't see it, but he could hear it in the moment of silence before she spoke. "What if my intel's wrong? What if he has security? I'll feel terrible if something happens to you."

Bucky recognized a familiar face at one of the tables, a venti iced drink dripping condensation onto the table in front of him. Bucky smiled. "Your intel is never wrong. Besides, I think I'll be okay. Kick ass out there, Widow."

"You too," Natasha answered, and then the line went dead with a swiftness that suggested it was purposeful. You never could be sure though.

Bucky came to a stop in front of one of the tables. "Shouldn't you be out, I don't know, sharpening your axe or writing some fiery op-ed piece about how chainsaws are 'the easy way out' or something?"

Steve looked up at him with a smirk. "My axe is always plenty sharp. And nobody reads the newspaper anymore. I'd have to post it to my blog."

"Now that is a blog I can get behind. What's it called?" Bucky picked up the drink and took a huge swig.

"The Logger Blogger." Bucky almost spit out the gulp of iced chai in his mouth. How Steve managed to deliver that line without laughing was beyond him.

Bucky carefully swallowed his appropriated iced beverage before responding. "What a clever title. I don't suppose it's just your love of cold tea and word play that brought you to Brew, Tea, and the Beast today."

"What else would I be doing here?" Steve asked innocently.

Bucky scoffed. "Looking for inspiration for your next blog post about how kids these days are destroying America with their poisonous values. I don't know. Maybe you're planning to turn one of your night time hobbies into a day time hobby." He took another big drink of the chai. Steve still hadn't asked for it back and Bucky had finished off more than half of it.

"First of all, that isn't really something I would write because I disagree and it's not about wood--"

Buck interrupted him. "Oh, you think about wood a lot?"

Steve kept talking, but his cheeks turned a nice shade of pink so Bucky knew he had heard his interjection. "---And secondly, I can't really call it a hobby if I get paid to do it."

"Hobbies can become jobs. Jobbies." Bucky cringed as soon as the word left his mouth.

Steve laughed and Bucky was taken aback again at what a nice laugh it was. "What about you? Are you here for your jobbie?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Bucky said with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle.

"Ah, but if you kill me, then who are you going to steal targets from?" Steve looked at his stolen, almost empty chai with a smile. "Correction. Who are you going to steal targets  _ and  _ iced coffee from?"

Bucky downed the rest of the chai. "Well, Steve, the good news is I'm not here to kill you so we don’t have to worry about that." He put the empty cup down in front of Steve and walked off into the coffee shop.

On the inside, the shop looked like a castle, all stone walls and sconces with flickering candles. One wall was covered in books and even had a sliding ladder. He was tempted to try that smooth move Belle does in the movie, but he figured it was frowned upon judging by the 'DO NOT USE LADDER' sign posted by the bookshelf.

"Welcome to Brew, Tea, and the Beast, your local pet friendly cafe. We'd love for you to put our service to the test. What can I get you?" the girl behind the counter droned.

Bucky wanted to laugh and cry simultaneously. "Do you really have to say that every time someone orders a coffee?" The girl stared back at him with dead eyes, which he took to be a yes. "Could I get a....Lumiere....latte? And a ----" he trailed off, eyes squinting as he searched the menu. "I give up. A large iced chai please."

"One Lumiere latte and one iced Chip Tea Latte. That'll be $9.56." the girl said, popping her gum. Bucky glanced at her name tag. Darcy.

He handed over a 10. "I know this sounds condescending because it's only 44 cents, but you can keep the change." She stared at him with dead eyes again."So do you have regulars here who actually know the Beauty and the Beast themed names for all your drinks?" He wasn't as good at espionage as Natasha, but he was hoping maybe Darcy would be able to tell him if Zola had already been in for his caffeine fix or if he had to wait around for the scum bag to show up.

"I only know the names of the dogs that come in here regularly because dogs are better than people." Darcy worked surprisingly quickly and efficiently considering how much it seemed like she despised her job. "Lucky comes every day. He's adorable because he has one eye. He hasn't been in yet though."

Darcy handed him his drinks. "Perfect. Thanks, Darcy."

"It's weird to call people you don't know by their name." She pointed out.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "It's on your name tag."

"It's still creepy." She popped her gum and walked away from him.

Bucky took the drinks and headed back out to the table where Steve was sitting. He had pulled a book out of somewhere and was lazily reading. "You're going to miss your target with your nose buried in a book like that." He put the iced chai down in front of Steve and took a sip of his own white mocha, sitting across from the blonde. Steve looked up at him and smiled fondly at the chai now in front of him. He closed the book and left it on the table.  _ Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.  _ "Please tell me this isn't your first time through the series."

Steve scoffed at him. "What do I look like, some kind of heathen?" He took a sip of the chai. "You know, this tasted delicious before but it's somehow better when it's free." He smiled and Bucky wanted to stay here, in the sun with Steve talking about Harry Potter forever. But he had a job to do, so he looked over his shoulder and kept an eye out for Zola.

"Which house were you sorted in then?" Bucky felt you could tell a lot about a person by their Hogwarts house.

Steve smiled. "Slytherin. Yourself?"

"Ahh. 'Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends." Bucky found there were two types of people who got sorted into Slytherin. Those who embraced it wholeheartedly and those who tried to hide it. Steve was the first kind and Bucky liked that. "Unfortunately, I was sorted into Hufflepuff."

Steve frowned. "Unfortunately? Please. Hufflepuff has produced the fewest number of dark wizards. They're just, loyal, and unafraid of toil. That's not a bad thing to be." He took a long drink of his chai. "Plus, Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders."

It took Bucky a few moments to stop laughing. "True enough. I just always felt like I belonged in Gryffindor."

"Well, the sorting hat knows us better than we know ourselves." Steve looked down the sidewalk and went slightly too still.

Bucky turned to see Zola coming down the street with a one-eyed golden retriever on a leash. He turned back to Steve with a smile. "I guess this is where the real fun begins, huh?"

Zola passed behind them, headed for the door of the shop. Lucky was sidetracked, wagging his tail and looking happily at Bucky. With his one eye. He knew it should be unnerving but he found it endearing. Zola yanked at the leash. "Come on, dog." Lucky gave a short yelp and followed Zola into the shop.

"He doesn't deserve that dog," Bucky seethed. Steve nodded in agreement. "You can sit out here and wait if you want . I'm going to go take care of this."

Steve said something in protest, but Bucky honestly didn't hear him. He stormed into the shop and was relieved to see there were no bystanders except for Darcy.

"Watch yourself, Darcy!" Bucky yelled, pulling his pistol out of his holster. He heard Steve storm in and yell something about the letter Q and cameras. He wasn't paying that much attention because he was lining up his shot, making sure Darcy and Lucky would be in the clear. His world tilted and shifted as Steve tackled him before he could get the shot off. Which was frustrating because now Zola was painfully aware of him.

"Are you an idiot?! No silencer in a neighborhood shop in broad daylight? You're asking for unwanted attention." Steve had a point, but Bucky didn't like having his shot ruined. He did, however, enjoy the solid weight of Lumberjack piled on top of him, but that was a thought for a later time.

Steve quickly climbed off of him. "Q, the doors!" Bucky was very confused who Q was, but the doors locked with an audible click so he assumed Q was some kind of magician.

"Thank you so much for saving me from this awful attempted assassination!" Zola reached out to shake Steve's hand as a thank you for taking down Bucky.

"You got another thing coming if you think this is an  _ attempted _ assassination," Steve said, taking Zola's hand and twisting his arm at an unnatural angle. Darcy screamed. Zola crumpled to the ground, letting go of Lucky's leash. Bucky had just managed to pull himself up onto his knees when Lucky barreled into him, whining and shaking. He wrapped his arms around the dog, unable to leave the poor thing so afraid. Maybe he did belong in Hufflepuff after all.

Steve twisted Zola's arm. It was definitely already broken, but it still had to hurt to have it wrenched at a weird angle. "Who is the Red Skull?" Zola laughed. Steve dropped the broken arm and twisted his other arm. Zola cried out in pain and Lucky shivered against Bucky’s chest, his head buried in Bucky's neck. "I said, who is the Red Skull? I am willing to break all 206 bones in your body if that's what it takes for you to answer me.”

Bucky was possibly more attracted to Steve than he should have been. He had a thing for competency and Steve was definitely competent. He sat down on the ground and stretched his legs out. Lucky was still terrified and looking for cuddles, so obviously he wasn't going to be doing any real work here. He might as well get comfortable and enjoy watching Steve do all the work.

"Even if you knew who he was, you'd never be able to take him down." Zola sounded pretty confident for a guy with two broken arms.

Steve laughed. "We'll see about that." And with a quick, effortless motion, snapped his neck. Zola's body slumped to the floor and Steve frowned at him before rummaging through his pockets to steal his phone. "Q. I've got the phone ,  but it's got some high tech security. You think you can hack it?" There was a prolonged pause. "Stop." Another pause. "Goddamm it,  stop laughing. Can you do it or not?" Short pause. "Good. I'll be back at HQ shortly. Just have to wrap up here.” He turned to look at Bucky.

"I don't know who Q is, but he seems like a cool dude." Bucky mindlessly ran his hand down Lucky's back. The dog seemed perfectly content to be sitting in Bucky's lap. Although 'sitting in his lap' was probably less accurate than 'straddling his thigh'.

"He's actually kind of a dick, but in an endearing way. Super helpful though." Steve bent over and ran a hand over Lucky's head. "Sorry to off your owner there, pal ,  but he wasn't a nice guy."

"Well I could have told you that," Darcy snapped from behind the corner. Bucky had actually kind of forgotten she was there.

Steve considered her for a moment. "How would you like to get out of the barista business?"

She snorted. "Is that even a question?"

"Here, call this number and ask for Pepper Potts. Tell her I referred you. And uh--" he trailed off, looking at Zola's still body. "I'll be sending someone to clean this up. I assume you won't be telling anyone?"

"You just murdered a guy and offered me a job and you want me to keep quiet about it?" She crossed her arms and popped a hip.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Are you like, James Bond?" She popped her gum. Bucky barked out a laugh, which earned him a glare from Steve.

"Yeah, kind of." Steve quirked his head, considering the question. "But really, I'm probably more like one of those lesser known agents. I'm not very suave. You'd like Black Panther though. He's more the James Bond type."

Darcy shrugged. "Okay, cool."

"You're just going to shrug and be cool with this?" Bucky asked.

"Do you know how hard it is to find a job around here? If all I have to do is keep my mouth shut about seeing an asshole get murdered, I can handle that." Darcy looked over at Lucky. "You should keep Lucky. He likes you."

Bucky looked at the dog to find him staring back at him. He thought maybe he'd get an eye patch for him. "You don't want to keep him? You said he was your favorite."

"Pssh. I already have 3 dogs. I don't have the space for another one." Darcy grabbed her bag out from under the counter. "So ,  do I need to put my two week's notice in here or..?"

Steve shook his head. "Pepper will take care of everything."

"Alright. Perfect. See you guys around then." She waved at them and headed towards the door.

"I'd just like to point out, I don't work with him! You won't be seeing me around!" Bucky called after her. She ignored him. Whatever, Bucky wasn't offended by that. He wasn't

Steve stared at Bucky for a long time. It seemed like he was working up the courage to ask him something, which was never good. Bucky nipped that right in the bud. "Look, I'd like the record to show that I let you have that target. I was tending to very important matters and you had the situation under control."

"You were going to shoot him in broad daylight, in a monitored coffee shop, with no silencer on your gun." Steve crossed his arms over his chest and suddenly Bucky felt like he was in the principal's office.

He stood up and Lucky groaned at the loss of his new favorite cushion. "I am willing to admit  that in retrospect it was a bad plan. But we've been tracking this guy for days and I finally fucking had him. I just wanted to take him down. I maybe haven't been sleeping as much as I should be."

" _We’ve_ been tracking him?" Steve asked. 

"Well, yeah,  _ we _ ." Bucky shrugged. "You didn't think I was running solo like Batman or something did you?"

"No, I knew you had at least one accomplice. Falcon told me about the fight with the bow and arrow guy. How many of you are there, exactly?" Steve raised one eyebrow at him. Bucky knew he was trying to come off as inquisitive and imposing ,  but he mostly looked really cute. He also knew 'cute' should not be a word used to describe a man who just killed another man with his bare hands, but he didn't really care.

Bucky smirked. "Trying to get organization secrets out of me? You gonna break my neck if I don't tell you?"

"No, I think I like your neck just the way it is to be honest." Bucky tried not to blush. "I'm just surprised that the two of you are able to keep track of so many targets. I work with an agency with endless resources and it still feels like you're always keeping up with us, if not one step ahead of us. We should be blowing you out of the water."

"First of all, rude. Second of all, there's three of us and you  _ should  _ be embarrassed because we are just as effective as your team of agents , " Bucky said.

There was a tinny voice in his ear again. "Be honest with him. Tell him I'm the brains of the operation here." Bucky snorted, even though he knew Natasha was not joking and she certainly wasn't wrong.

"Widow does all the hard work. Hawkeye and I are just little worker bees. But I can tell you right now you won't be able to recruit her the same way you just recruited Darcy." Bucky felt very defensive about his team. They worked alone, together, and nobody was going to break up the Dream Team Murder Squad.

Steve huffed out a laugh. "Who said she's the one I'm after?" Bucky honestly had no idea how to respond to that, so he just stared back at Steve. "See you around, Sniper," he said, and then he was gone. 

Bucky figured he should make a hasty retreat as well. He didn't want to be caught hanging around when Steve's cleanup crew turned up to take care of Zola's body. The bells over the coffee shop door gave a happy jingle as he got back on the sidewalk.

"I like him. He's got a sexy voice," Natasha said, coming out from an alley to walk with him.

Bucky did not jump. He didn't. "Christ, Widow, again with the sneaking up on me thing. Totally unnecessary."

Natasha shrugged. "So what's the deal? You guys seem pretty chummy."

"Ugh." Bucky ran a hand over his face. "It's weird. I keep running into him on ops. The first time I saw him was on that Strucker case. And he was fuckin pissed because I had 'stolen his target'. He's chilled out since that first encounter though. Probably because he got his revenge by offing Zemo right out from under me."

"He's GQ Lumberjack?" Natasha wrapped an arm around Bucky's arm as they headed back towards their warehouse. "So ,  how many times has this happened that you've run into each other?"

Bucky thought back over the last few weeks. "Four, including today."

"Is he a threat?" Natasha asked very seriously. She was clearly already planning ten different ways she could kill him.

"No. He told me his real name and everything. He talked to me about Harry Potter today." Bucky smiled despite the fact that he knew Natasha would see it and probably use it against him later.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Alright, so what's Lover Boy's name?"

"Why would I tell you? You're just going to hunt him down and threaten him within an inch of his life." They arrived at their door. Warehouse, sweet warehouse. "He's a nice guy. He doesn't deserve the Natasha Romanoff Interrogation™."

"I think maybe you're biased. But I'll resist hunting him down for now." Natasha pulled her arm out from his and threw the door open. "Clint! Bucky has a boyfriend!"

Bucky sighed.

"Is it GQ Lumberjack? Boy looked  _ fine _ on that street corner , " Clint called from somewhere in the 'house. Up in the rafters, apparently, if the sound of rattling bows in his quiver overhead was anything to go by. Natasha scowled. "But not as fine as you!" Bucky had no idea how Clint managed to see Natasha's face from up there, but he supposed that's why they called him Hawkeye. Natasha looked mildly placated.

Nat turned to face Bucky. "Just be careful with him, James." This was her way of reminding him that you can never trust people, without actually saying the words 'you can never trust people'.

"When have I ever not been careful?" he asked with a smirk.

Clint groaned from the rafters. Natasha smiled, a shark like grin full of teeth and intention. "Where do we begin---"

It was going to be a long night.


	5. I'd Probably Still Adore You With Your Hands Around My Neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "505" by the Arctic Monkeys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I scrape the bottom of the barrel for a canon Cap villain to feature...

Steve pulled at his sleeve, unhappy with the way it felt against his forearm as he leaned onto the bar. "Man, if you're going to mess with your sleeves all night, why'd you ask Thor for a plaid with the sleeves rolled up?" Sam asked, taking a drink of his beer.

"I thought he'd roll them up to the elbow. They aren't rolled far enough. I'm terrible at this." He gave up at trying to roll the sleeve up himself.

Sam took pity on his soul, set his beer on the bar, and rolled Steve's sleeves up a few more  inches  to his elbow. He took a step back to admire his work. "I'll admit, I have to agree with you. It looks way better rolled up further."

"Thank you." Steve stirred at the ice in his mojito. "Remind me again who this woman is that we're looking for."

Sam sighed. He was always reminding Steve about the details of missions. Steve really only needed to know two things, who were they and when did they need to die . Although,  with all this Hydra stuff , he found that knowing  _ why _ they needed to die was helpful in fueling his rage addled murder skills. "Her name is Ophelia, she goes by Madame Hydra, but she used to go by Viper  - which in itself should be enough reason for her to die. She appears to be the highest ranking Hydra agent we've been able to locate. She should be able to give us more information on Johann Schmidt, or potentially the Red Skull."

"So ,  we need to get information and kill her? I'm not good at interrogations." The murder part, he knew he could handle, but lately he'd found himself unable to get much out of his targets besides 'Hail Hydra'.

"That's the plan." Sam nodded, looking out at the crowd. "She comes here every Friday night. Has her own private room and everything."

Steve hated clubs like this. The music was always awful and it was always too loud - you could never hear anyone unless you were encroaching on their personal bubble. In his experience, private rooms in clubs were never good or safe places. "Why didn't we send Elektra on this op? I feel like she's better at collecting intel and being sneaky about it."

"Madame Hydra is always, always surrounded by men. Elektra wouldn't have stood a chance." Sam smirked. "One of us needs to get her alone in that private room."

Steve did not like where this was going. "So, we're flirting our way into intel?"

"That's about right." Sam looked absurdly pleased.

"How is T'Challa going to feel about this?"

Sam looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"You're flirting with some random woman. How's he going to feel about that?"

Sam laughed. "Here's the thing. We have it on good authority that Madame Hydra is a racist asshole, so I'm sure I won't actually get to do much flirting. And it's not like T'Challa and I are dating so I don't see why he would care."

"Okay, I'll accept the first point. But I can't help but feel like you're using semantics to avoid telling me the truth about the second part." Steve narrowed his eyes at Sam, who just smirked in return. 

"Oh my god. Are you using semantics to try to weasel out of telling me things?"

"I might be." He took a long drink of his beer and Steve looked at him expectantly. "So, he came back from his undercover mission and I met him in the lobby at HQ. I didn't even think about it, I just walked up and hugged him because I was so fucking glad he was back and he was  _ safe,  _ ya know?" Steve nodded. He was familiar with the urge to give out bone crushing hugs every time his friends came back from dangerous ops. " Then  I pull back to tell him, like I missed you so much, and he drops his bag and pulls me back in. But this time it was for a kiss." Steve let out an involuntary giggle. "So ,  I guess now I know what you meant when you said I was biased about him." Sam was blushing and it was adorable.

"So you're...what? Friends with benefits?" Steve was genuinely surprised because Sam was not the casual fling kind of guy.

Sam scoffed. "Oh, no, we're definitely in a relationship."

"Dude. You literally just told me you weren't dating." Steve took a sip of his mojito. "Don't tell me Sam Wilson is a liar now."

"Sam Wilson is  _ not  _ a liar."

"Don't talk about yourself in third person," Steve chided.

"The point is, we haven't been able to go on any proper dates so it's not like we've been  _ dating _ ." Sam was clearly very proud to have found this loophole.

Steve punched Sam in the shoulder. "Semantics. But that's great, I'm happy for you."

"So , are we going to talk about why you requested the lumberjack look for tonight's mission?" Sam was a master at making demands sound like questions. Like how he had just said 'tell me why you're dressed like this’  and made it sound like a reasonable request.

"I think you probably already know the answer." Steve didn't see the point in denying he was dressed this way for a very specific reason.

Sam nodded. "I know, but I wanted to hear you say it. That's a new level of interest and investment for you considering you don't even know the guy's name."

"Don't need to know a guy's name to push him up against a wall and make out with him," Steve pointed out.

"Is that all you're looking for?" Sam looked at him with raised eyebrows.

Steve considered for a moment. "No, I suppose I could go for some sex, too."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Steve. Honestly."

"Okay, okay. Yeah , I want to make out with him , but I also want to know more about him. Like his name, for instance." Steve surveyed the area. Still no Madame Hydra. "But also his favorite breakfast foods and who he thinks the best Disney villain is and how he feels about oatmeal raisin cookies."

"Oatmeal raisin cookies are a threat to mankind. The look like chocolate chips and then they turn out to be dried up grapes. They're nasty and nobody likes them," Sam said.

Steve laughed. "We're never going to agree on oatmeal raisin cookies, Sam. It's why we never would have lasted."

"You're really not my type." Sam traced lines in the condensation on his bottle, clearly thinking of someone who  _ was _ his type. He sighed and looked out over the crowd, turning to lean his back against the bar.

"Sam, why don't you get out of here. I can handle this. I've got the Stark tech so if anything goes wrong, I can always depend on Q. You should go spend time T'Challa." Sam looked at him  hopefully . "Go on, get out of here. It's starting to look like this is going to be a bust anyway."

Sam pulled him for a hug. "You're the best friend I could ask for. And I don't think it's going to be a total bust." He had a shit-eating grin on his face, but he walked away before Steve could ask him what it was about.

Steve went back to stirring the ice in his mojito, wondering how long he should stay before calling it a night. Maybe Madame Hydra had gone to a different club this week. Steve wouldn't blame her, this one was pretty awful.

"Now, what's a classy guy like you doing in a place like this?" Steve found himself smiling at the familiar voice before turning to see Sexy Sniper sitting next to him.

"Just looking for a good time I guess." Steve finished his mojito and saw the guy's mouth turn up at the corner.

"Murdery good times or sexy good times?" Sexy Sniper asked with a very dangerous and attractive smirk. Steve tried not to blush at the line, but he was sure he did.

"Can't I have both?" Steve asked, leaning closer to the guy, who was dressed in a plain white v-neck and  _ very _ tight skinny black jeans.

He barked out a laugh. "That sounds pretty kinky. You have someone in mind?"

Steve turned around to look out at the dance floor and a flash of pale skin in an emerald green dress caught his eye. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do and she's just arrived." He noticed Sexy Sniper frown out of the corner of his eye, but he had a job to do. He ordered a screwdriver, because you can never go wrong with a screwdriver, and stood up to head over to Madame Hydra.

She was lounging in the corner of the club, a security goon looming next to her couch. He looked like he'd be easy enough to take down if he needed to. Steve confidently strolled over and sat down next to Madame Hydra, handing her the screwdriver. "A drink for the prettiest girl in the room."

She took the drink and handed it to her guard. He took a sip and nodded before handing it back to her. "You flatter me, but I hope you understand my hesitance to trust random men who give me drinks." Steve nodded. "Although, the screwdriver is one of my favorite drinks."

"But I'm sure it comes in second to the White Russian." Sexy Sniper slid onto the couch on the other side of Madame Hydra.

"That it does," she responded, setting down the screwdriver Steve and given her and drinking the White Russian instead after her guard tasted it. Sexy Sniper smiled at her and threw his arm around the back of the couch, his forearm brushing along her shoulders.

"What's a classy lady like you doing in a place like this?" Madame Hydra giggled at the question, and Steve tried to hide his annoyance. Had Sniper only used that line on him earlier because he was trying to find out what he was up to?

"You're certainly charming." She gave Sniper an assessing once over. "I'm doing what any lady does on a night out."

Sniper leaned in closer. "Oh, and what's that?" Several other men started lurking near Madame Hydra, clearly excited for their chance to woo her and give her drinks.

Steve scooted closer to Madame Hydra, shoving his own arm in between Sniper's forearm and her shoulders. "She's letting us fight over her." She looked at Steve now, a shine in her eye that was indicative of her excitement at having two men so close to her. "As we should. She's fuckin gorgeous." Steve leaned forward, brushed Madame Hydra's hair away from her neck, and placed a wet kiss where her shoulder met her neck. She gave an elated giggle. The group of men somehow seemed to have grown even larger in the last few moments.

"I like you." She wrapped a hand around Steve's arm and stood up, pulling him with her. "You're coming with me." Steve took a second to shoot Sniper a smug look.  _ Ha, ha, I got the target again _ . "You're coming, too." She pulled Sniper off the couch and Steve saw his own smug look reflected back at him on Sniper's face.  _ Dammit. _

Madame Hydra,  _ Ophelia, please, call me Ophelia _ , led them to a private room. Steve had definitely been uncomfortable before ,  but now he was getting increasingly more uneasy. He knew this was a necessary part of the job if he wanted information, but he didn't have to like it. She sat down on the couch and patted the space on either side of her, inviting them to sit as they had been on the couch out in the main lounge area. Steve shot Sniper a withering look before taking his spot on Ophelia's side and Sniper did the same.

Ophelia threw her hair back off her shoulder, baring her neck for Steve. "As you were."

Steve gave her his best attempt at a seductive smile before leaning and putting his lips against her pale skin. If he was thinking about someone else's neck while he did it, nobody had to know but him.

 

* * *

Steve was kissing Her neck again. She had asked them to call her Ophelia, but Bucky thought that name was too pretty for such an awful human being. So,  he just kept avoiding using her name and referr ing to her as 'Her' in his head. Childish? Yes. Did he care? No.

Steve was kissing Her neck and Bucky was trying very, very, hard not to get visibly jealous. She kept making these soft, vulnerable noises that would be really attractive if they weren't coming from the mouth of a human scum bag.

He figured she had brought him there for more than just watching, so he slid his hand along Her jaw, turning her face towards his and kissing her square on the mouth. She was an alright kisser. She was probably distracted because Steve was working his way all along her neck now, a trail of kisses from her shoulder to her jaw.  She pulled away from Bucky and turned to face Steve, pulling his face away from her neck and up to her own face to kiss him, open mouthed and very loudly. It was pretty tacky. And Bucky wasn't just thinking that because he was jealous, because he  _ wasn't _ jealous. He distracted himself by taking over Steve's previous job and kissing along her neck. He really wanted to cut to the chase and ask her about the Red Skull, but he figured he had to earn her trust a little more. Get her more pliable. 

Thankfully, the drugs Nat had given him to drop in her drink would be working soon. Her inhibitions would be lowered exponentially and getting information would be easy.

There was a gentle tug at his chin and Bucky allowed Her to pull him up from her neck. "Now you," she said, guiding Steve and Bucky towards each other.

This was. This was not what Bucky had expected. 

Steve pulled back with a panicked look. "Ophelia." Bucky tried to hide his cringe. "I'd much rather be kissing you." Bucky did  _ not  _ try to hide his unimpressed face.

"You can kiss me again after you kiss him." She smiled, clearly pleased with herself for having created this possibility. Little did she know  that  Bucky would have kissed Steve without being coerced into it.

"What can I have if I do?" Steve asked. His voice sounded so fucking smooth and deep. He leaned in closer to her ear. "Will you tell me a secret?"

"You can each have a secret if you kiss him," she promised. Bucky smirked. Clearly the drugs were working. Steve smiled and pulled Bucky towards him, wasting no time pulling at Bucky's shirt to kiss his collar bone. Bucky realized it was probably some combination of the drugs and Steve's mouth that had gotten Her to promise to give up secrets, because Steve's mouth was fucking amazing.

Bucky tried not to shiver as Steve worked his way slowly up his neck, leaving little bruises in his wake. Some distant part of Bucky's brain said these kisses felt much more needy than the ones he had been giving Her a moment ago. Steve kissed at Bucky's neck, right under his jaw, and Bucky thought he was going to die of anticipation.

He felt Steve smile against his skin before he pulled away. "Well, Ophelia, I've held up my end of the bargain, now it's your turn."

"You didn't kiss him!" she yelled in frustration. Bucky bitterly thought there was no way she could be as frustrated about this as he was.

"I did. I kissed him a lot, actually," Steve pointed out. He dragged a hand down Bucky's neck, where the red marks and bruises he had left there were still clearly visible, and Bucky shivered. There was a flash of a smile on Steve's face before he turned back to Her. "So, I think you owe me a secret."

She huffed. "You were supposed to kiss him on the mouth."

"Well, the instructions were unclear." Steve shrugged. "But a deal is a deal and you're a woman of her word, aren't you?"

She looked pissed. "Fine, a secret for you then. What is it you want to know?"

"Who is the Red Skull, and what is he planning to do?" Steve stared at her, and she laughed. Bucky wanted to laugh too because Steve had no idea how to be subtle at all.

"That's two questions, dear. I'm afraid our deal was only one." Steve frowned at her, but she waved it away with a hand. "I'm feeling generous though. Of course, Johann Schmidt is the Red Skull. He plans to infiltrate the government, which isn't going to be hard for him to do considering the state of things, and rule from a legitimate seat of power."

"If all he wants is power, then why all the shady operations?" Bucky cut in.

She barked another laugh out at him. "The arms of Hydra are all very lucrative a nd Johann has no intention of ending any of them. If he's in a position of power, he's more able to control police forces, other politicians, and media coverage. All eyes will be diverted from him while he continues to rule this city while profiting from its crime."

Steve looked suspiciously at her. "That's a lot more than two secrets."

"I'm not complaining, the more information the better," Bucky shot back. He might have still been angry that Steve hadn't actually kissed him.

"Oh, I'm not worried about it at all. The plan is quite close to being complete and you two won't survive to do anything about it anyway." The doors burst open and several men piled in, one after another.

"Fuck," Bucky breathed before flipping over the back of the couch to take cover.

Steve had already pulled out a gun and taken out two of the goons. Or maybe he had shot someone with his watch? It had happened so quickly it had been hard to tell what exactly had happened. Clearly he had that situation under control. Bucky reached over the back of the couch and wrapped his arm around Her neck, locking his arm in with his other hand.

He almost let go when Steve took a shot to the arm. "Don't let her go!" he yelled as his gun fell to the ground. He tackled the guy to the ground, throwing a punch as they went down.

She was struggling against Bucky's arm, trying to escape her death. "Let me go! I'll tell you anything!"

"You've already told me everything I needed to know," Bucky whispered, tightening his arm around her neck.

"You'll never be able to stop us," she said. "The plan is too far along, and Schmidt won't be easy to take down."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I'm not worried about it."

"Hydra is too powerful," she croaked out. "We will not be stopped. We have been growing for years." Bucky could tell she was close to dying because she wasn't moving nearly as much and her voice was close to a whisper. "Cut off one head---" Bucky put his hand over her mouth, pinching her nose closed with his thumb and forefinger.

"Yeah, yeah, two more shall grow in its place. Hail Hydra. Blah, blah, blah. You guys need some new material." She slumped against him, lifeless, and he let go of her just as Steve appeared to deliver the finishing blow on the guard he had tackled.

Steve stood up, hair askew, the first few buttons on his shirt ripped open. His knuckles were bloody and he had a quickly forming black eye. Bucky walked over to him to inspect the bullet wound. 

"Just a graze," he said. "Too bad about the shirt though."

Steve snorted. "I wore it just for you, you know." His cheeks turned pink as soon as the words left his mouth, and he was suddenly very interested in the blood all over his hands.

Bucky smiled at him. "I like it. Really completes the whole murderous lumberjack look you have going right now. Didn't you bring your ax? It probably would've been helpful just now."

"Kinda hard to sneak it into a place like this though, especially when you're trying to seduce your target." Steve glanced over at Her. "My target who is now dead, thanks to you."

"Well, you told me you came here for murdery good times and sexy good times. You still got both of those things." He pointed at the piled up dead men that Steve had just murdered for emphasis.

Steve grinned at him. "I wasn't trying to have murdery times with three henchman, I was trying to have murdery times with Madame Hydra. And you can bet your sweet ass I wasn't trying to have sexy times with her."

"Well then who were you trying to have a sexy time with? Didn't seem like you were trying very hard to kiss  _ me _ ." Bucky crossed his arms like a petulant child. There was a chance he was overreacting about this whole 'not kissing me' thing.

"I didn't want the first time I kissed you to be because some Hydra agent was making me do it." He wrapped an arm around Bucky's waist, pulled him in against his chest, and started kissing his neck. "Besides, I usually like to know the name of the people I'm kissing," he said between kisses. He was making his way up Bucky's neck again, but this time he didn't pause at the spot under the corner of his jaw . H e kept going, placing kisses all along Bucky's jaw line.

Bucky wound his arms around Steve's neck, threading his fingers through his hair. "Bucky. You can call me Bucky, now just fucking kiss me."

Steve kissed at the corner of his mouth. "Bossy." He smiled against Bucky's lips before kissing him.

It was way better than Bucky had imagined, and he definitely had imagined it before. Maybe it was because he just watched Steve take out a bunch of men single handedly. Or maybe it was the way his face managed to look even more attractive with a bruise blooming around his eye. Possibly it was Steve's warm, blood covered hands snaking under Bucky's shirt that made it better than he thought it would be. Whatever it was, Bucky fucking loved it and he wasn't about to stop.

He wasn't going to stop, but apparently Steve was - he pulled back ,  but didn't let go of Bucky. "We should go. We were able to find out from Zola's phone that Schmidt is going to be hosting an event tomorrow night - some kind of fancy benefit. I know I'm going to be there and something tells me you are, too. We need to get some rest and prepare."

"You always kill the moment by thinking strategically?" Bucky traced his thumb under the line of Steve's black eye.

Steve laughed. "Not usually. You know, you could just come with me and we could get some rest, umm, together."

"Something tells me if I go with you, we won't be doing much resting." Steve laughed again and Bucky found himself completely unable to resist laughing with him. "Besides, I need to check in with my team. They'd kill me if I let them think I was dead."

"Fair enough." Steve let his hands slide out from under Bucky's shirt and he stepped back. "You should get going. I'll contact HQ and get someone out here to clean this up. I'm probably going to need some facial masking as well."

"Your team can do that? Without being here?" Bucky could barely even contact his team from 10 feet away, let alone get them to do some high tech shit to his face from some remote location.

Steve smiled, tapping at his watch. "One of the many benefits of working for Hill. You should consider joining the team."

"You're recruiting me now?" Steve nodded and shrugged in a way that said  _ 'yeah I guess I am' _ . Bucky smiled . " I think I liked it better when you were kissing me."

"You and me both," Steve said as a hologram projected from his watch onto his face. Or some shit. Bucky really didn't understand what exactly was happening, but Steve's black eye was disappearing bit by bit. "You better get out of here before Rhodey shows up. He's less into making out with rogue agents and more into questioning them about who they work for and trying to aggressively recruit them. Nice guy though."

Bucky didn't want to be 'aggressively recruited', and he definitely didn't want to make out with anyone but Steve, so he headed for the door back out to the lounge. "See you around, then?"

Steve looked up at him and gave him a dazzling, blinding smile. His eyes shone with it and Bucky suddenly felt like he didn't want to leave at all, maybe he wanted to take Steve up on his earlier offer for 'rest'. "Yeah, I'll see you around, Buck. Take care of yourself."

Bucky smiled back at him. "You too, lumberjack. You too." He opened the lounge door a nd the last thing he heard from the private room was a soft, sweet laugh before the thumping bass assaulted his ears. He much preferred the laugh.


	6. You Better Run, Better Run, Outrun My Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read/commented/left kudos on this story! You guys are amazing, I'm so glad you all have enjoyed this silly story about Steve and Bucky being badasses and falling in love. 
> 
> Special shout out to a_sprinkle_of_cinnamon for beta-reading this even though it was a gift. YOU'RE THE BEST. 
> 
> Chapter title from "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People.

"So, how did  last night go ?" Sam  asked,  sitting next to Steve in one of the smaller meeting rooms in the office. T'Challa sat at the end of the table.

 

"It went about as well as I thought it would." Steve took a sip of his coffee. "I ran into that sniper - his name is Bucky, by the way - and we took down Madame Hydra. And by 'we', of course I mean 'he', because apparently his only goal in life is to steal my targets."

 

Sam laughed. "I get the feeling you weren't actually upset about this turn of events."

 

"You wouldn't be wrong." Steve did not elaborate because he wasn't ready for the Sam Wilson Therapy Session that was sure to follow the revelation that he made out with the guy he had been pseudo-complaining about for the last couple of weeks. "And you? How did your night go?"

 

Sam glanced at T'Challa, who looked back at him with an unreadable face. "It was really, really, good." Steve was clearly not the only skimping on details here.

 

Elektra glided into the room and took the seat opposite Steve. "Thank goodness you're back, T'Challa. I've botched enough Diplomat missions for a lifetime."

 

"I'm glad to be back, Elektra. And I'm sure they weren't botched, you're more skilled than you let yourself believe." Steve realized he had missed T'Challa because he managed to make fortune cookie type advice sound completely serious. It was no wonder he and Sam were into each other.

 

Director Hill stormed in, closing the door behind her. "Good, the four of you are here already. Let's get down to business."

 

Sam hummed a few lines to the tune of  _ I'll Make a Man Out of You _ , and Steve tried to contain his laughter. With a straight face, T'Challa asked, "Should I be saying goodbye to those who knew me?" and Steve couldn't hold it in anymore. A small laugh escaped him and he heard Elektra choke on a laugh across the table from him.

 

Director Hill narrowed her eyes at them. "Very funny. I'm glad you're all on the same page. You're going to need to work together if you have any chance at defeating the Huns. HYDRA. Defeating Hydra."

 

Now everyone was laughing. Hill closed her eyes, a small smile on her face before she cleared her throat. Everyone stopped laughing. "Right. Anyway, Johann Schmidt is hosting a fundraising benefit tonight at an art gallery. T'Challa, you already had an invitation. So, I'm going to need you to get Rogers, Natchios, and Wilson in with you. I have no doubt there will be resistance, but I'm sure you can handle it. Once inside, I need you all to fan out and find Schmidt. Reconvene, figure out the best plan to take him down, and get it done quickly and quietly. Rogers, you're going to need to stop down at Tac Gear and get a new suit. I'm assuming the rest of you still have your formal wear in one piece?"

 

Everyone nodded. "In Steve's defense, it wasn't his fault that guy had a knife." Sam was an actual angel for trying to stick up for Steve, but he knew he should have been more careful about avoiding the slashing. He had been pretty reckless on that op.

 

"I'm not blaming Steve for anything. The fact remains that he needs a new suit for this mission. Does anyone have any additional _comments_ or questions about the mission?" Nobody said anything. "Alright, you can always refer to your file for more information. Keep in mind that we're working on minimal information here and you need to be prepared for every possibility. You depart at 1700 hours. Good luck." She got up and left, but everyone else stayed at the table.

 

"This file is embarrassingly incomplete. We don't even know what kind of security he's going to have," Elektra pointed out a s she flipped through the folder Hill had given each of them.

 

T'Challa sighed. "I agree, we appear to be headed into this mission completely blind. I don't like it."

 

"I don't like it anymore than the rest of you, but this is our best chance at this guy. We've got his location and we know what he looks like. Who knows where he's going to go or how he'll disguise himself after this. We need to move while we can." Steve honestly wasn't feeling that comfortable himself, but he needed to rally the team. If they went in feeling doomed, there was no way they'd make it out. "We're the best at what we do, it's why we work for Hill. We can get this job done."

 

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "You're right, we're a squad of kickass agents and we can handle this. Plus, now we have an excuse to ask Stark for extra cool weapons."

 

"I like the way you think, Samuel." Elektra grinned and stood up. "Let's go. It's going to take me a while to decide which weapons are worth my limited storage space."

 

T'Challa tsked at her. "I've known you long enough to be sure you have a knack for concealing your weapons, despite the amount of storage space you have."

 

"How I've missed you, T'Challa." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Now ,  grab your boyfriend and we can all go pester Stark while Steve gets fitted by Thor." T'Challa didn't protest the 'boyfriends' jab, just got up to follow her out of the room.

 

"I think she was talking about you when she told T'Challa to bring his boyfriend," Steve said to Sam with a smirk.

 

"Oh, I'm fully aware who she was referring to. I wanted to ask you if  _ your _ boyfriend is going to be there tonight." Sam crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

 

Steve sighed. "Just because we've kissed doesn't make us boyfriends."

 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's only a matter of time." Sam smiled at him before getting serious again. "I just want to know . I n the end, can we count on him and his crew to help us, or should I be worried?"

 

"I think we can count on them," Steve answered.

 

Sam gave him a long look. "I trust your judgement, but I will tell you right now: the second it looks like he is going to be a problem, I will not hesitate to take him down."

 

"Is this your version of the 'hurt him and I'll kill you' speech? Because I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be telling him this." Steve was trying to make a joke, but judging by Sam's face, it didn't go over well.

 

Sam stood up to leave. "I'll save that speech for after your first date, but I'm completely serious about tonight."

 

"I know, Sam. Thank you." Steve go t up and followed him out of the room.

 

They split ways, heading down separate halls. Sam turned around, walking backwards down the hall towards Tech and Weapons. "And Steve?" Steve stopped walking and turned to look at Sam. "I'm happy for you and your grungy rogue assassin boyfriend." He gave Steve a big smile before turning around again.

 

"Not my boyfriend!" Steve called down after him.

 

Sam didn't even turn around. "Not yet!"

 

Steve headed off towards Tac Gear, a  huge smile  on his face.

**< > **

 

"Hmmm." Steve stood very still, arms stretched out at his sides. "Hmmm." Thor circled around him again, a frown etched on his face. "Hmmm."

 

"Are you going to say anything other than hmm?" Steve's arms  may have been  well muscled, but they were starting to get sore. Thor had circled around him several times. Very slowly.

 

"Okay, put your arms down." Thor took out a measuring tape and wrapped it around Steve's chest. "Sorry, sometimes I forget how tiring it gets to literally just stand there."

 

Steve rolled his eyes. "So ,  what has your excessive assessment revealed?"

 

"Navy blue three piece." He took a step back, looking Steve up and down before moving closer again to measure Steve's arms. "White shirt. Striped tie."

 

Tony strolled into the room as Thor moved to measure Steve's inseam. "Whoops, hope I'm not interrupting." Steve and Thor gave Tony matching glares. "Taking that as a no. Anyway, your merry band of thieves are upstairs sorting through the armory and picking out their weapons. They told me you were stranded in Tac Gear, so I thought I'd bring the weapons party to you." He flicked his tablet and a projection materialized in front of Steve's face. "I hope you're going to emphasize his shoulders with this suit."

 

"Psh. Do I look like a rookie? Of course I'm emphasizing his shoulders." Thor continued to move around Steve taking measurements of whatever it was a tailor needed measurements of.

 

"Good. Anyway, Rogers, here are some options. Parker and I developed this force field microchip. It seems to have stood up to long range and close quarters shots, so I think you'll benefit. We could insert one into an American flag pin or something." Tony slid his hand across his tablet and the image on the projection changed. "And here we have a pistol that reads your fingerprint - it won't fire if someone else tries to use it. Not that I think you're regularly having your gun used against you or anything, but, it's a nice precaution." Another flick of Tony's wrist and there was a knife on the projection. "This knife works on a similar principle. If someone else manages to get a hold of it, the blade retracts into the handle and it’s rendered useless."

 

"Nice, I'll take all of it." Steve appreciated his ever-changing arsenal provided by Tony. "I'm surprised you found time to get this new stuff out with that other project Hill had you working on."

 

"Well, it helps when you have a brain child as an intern. He had this huge thing about making weapons safer for our agents, hence the fingerprint coding." Tony flicked his tablet and the projection disappeared. "You should swing by the lab and get your prints coded once Thor is done pretending to get your measurements." He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

 

Steve looked at Thor, who was measuring Steve's chest for the  third time. He hadn't really been paying attention to Thor during Tony's visit ,  but now that he thought about it, he had been here for a long time. Thor shrugged and stepped away. "Just making sure I had the right numbers." Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "Alright, fine, I knew I had the right numbers the first time, I was just appreciating. How do you get such defined shoulders?"

 

Steve laughed. "I have a workout that focuses on upper body. Delts, biceps, pecs, and some other muscle group which I cannot think of right now. You can come train with me some time."

 

"Can I. Umm. Bring Jane too? She mentioned once she wanted to know what it was like to be a field agent." Thor suddenly busied himself with rolling up measuring tapes.

 

"Definitely." Steve only felt slightly guilty at being relieved that Thor really only wanted to impress Jane and he wasn't actually interested in Steve.

 

"Thanks. You can go catch up with Stark now, I've been done for a while." He started rummaging around on shelves and racks of clothes.

 

Steve headed out, but turned around in the doorway. "Hey, Thor?" Thor looked up at him, a white shirt in his hand. "Make sure you wear a tight shirt for the training. She'll like that."

 

Thor laughed, the booming kind of laugh you could probably hear three floors up. "Solid advice. And good inspiration for your own clothes tonight." He held up the white shirt in his hand, clearly an indication that it would be tailored to fit Steve like it was painted on.

 

"As long as I can fight in it, I don't care," Steve said.

 

Thor considered him for a moment. "You might flex out of it. But I think it would give you an advantage since everyone's gonna stare at you, completely dumbstruck after it happens."

 

"Dear lord," Steve muttered under his breath. Thor laughed again and Steve decided it was time to get away before he gave Thor anymore bad ideas. He headed down the hall to Tech and Weapons.

 

Steve leaned in the doorway and knocked on the jamb. Peter jumped at the noise and dropped a tablet on the ground. It was in a case, so Steve figured this was not the first time it had happened.

 

Peter picked up the tablet and turned around to give Steve a questioning look. "...Rogers?"

 

"Steve, yeah. Tony said I should stop by to get my weapons coded?" He wriggled his fingers in front of him for effect.

 

"Yes! Right! Come in!" Peter walked over to a table with stools set up around it and patted one in invitation for Steve to sit. He pulled a gun and knife towards him and started typing on his tablet.

 

Steve looked around the lab. "I literally just saw Tony. Where did he go?"

 

"Oh! Tony went to work on his AI project. But I can ask him to come back and do this if you would rather have him do it." Peter reached for his phone and Steve pushed it further out of his way.

 

"I've managed to go this whole day with minimal amounts of Tony's snark and innuendos, and I'd like to keep it that way."

 

Peter laughed. "I mean, in Tony's defense, you're asking for innuendos." Steve raised his eyebrows at him. "I mean, like, you're gorgeous! Who wouldn't innuendo you!" Steve's eyebrows moved closer to his hairline. "Wait! I mean....you're great! You're just amazing. I'm sorry. I'm going to stop talking now before I make this even worse." He furiously typed things into the tablet.

 

"Probably a good idea," Steve said with a laugh. "But, thanks? I don't know how to react to a small child telling me I'm gorgeous."

 

"I'm twenty-one though . S o , it's okay . I t's not like I'm jailbait." Peter cringed as he picked up the gun by its barrel and handed it to Steve. "Pretend I didn't say that. Try using the gun with your dominant shooting hand." He pushed a button on his tablet and a foam target descended from the ceiling. "I know it's probably tempting to use this on me at this point, but please use the target for testing."

 

Steve took the gun and felt a burning sensation in the grip and trigger before the gun cooled down again. He fired the gun twice, hitting the target dead in the center. "Looks like it works." He handed it back to Peter, who aimed for the target and pulled the trigger. The gun didn't work.

 

"Perfect. Excellent." He handed the gun back to Steve and continued typing things on his tablet. "Alright, pick up the knife with your dominant...umm...stabbing hand? Dominant knifing hand? Dominant slashing hand?  I'm sure it's your right hand. Which is probably your dominant hand for most things. Shooting, stabbing , punching, masturbating." His face turned a bright red and his eyes got huge. Steve tried to suppress his laughter. "Nope. Did not just imply I've thought about one of our best agents masturbating. Nope, no way. Here, take this knife, and please stab me with it so I can leave this earthly plane."

 

Steve laughed out loud, picking up the knife. He felt the same burning and cooling sensation and slashed the knife through the air a few times before setting it back down on the table. "Your turn."

 

Peter picked up the knife and drove the hilt towards his torso. Steve had a small heart attack before noticing that the blade retracted into the handle just before the hilt reached Peter's abdomen. "Damn, it worked, and I'm still stuck in this embarrassing moment with you." He threw the knife down on the table and nodded for Steve to pick it up again. Steve grabbed the handle and the blade immediately projected from the handle again.

 

"This is really impressive work." Steve turned the knife over, admiring the time and effort that had gone into what was essentially a high-tech switchblade. "What made you want to make it?"

 

"I just kept reading all these stories about people who were carrying weapons and then got attacked and had their weapons used against them. And I think it's awful that the thing people are trying to use to protect themselves ends up being the thing that hurts them." He was avoiding Steve's eyes, like wanting to protect people was something he should be embarrassed about. "I thought about asking Miss Potts if there was a way to distribute them to the general public or the police force, since they'd get more use out of them than overly trained super assassins, but she honestly kind of scares me."

 

Steve laughed. "Give yourself more credit, kid. You work with Tony all day. You have nothing to be scared of."

 

"I beg to differ. I really, really, beg to differ." Peter was violently shaking his head. "Have you met T'Challa? That guy is terrifying. Everyone here is terrifying. I feel like you're all ready to crush me under your boots."

 

"Okay, I'll give you T'Challa. He's intimidating. As far as the rest of us go, just be yourself - unless you're a dick, then just be nice  - and do your job and we'll all get along with you. We're all pretty easy going, especially Pepper. You're probably going to make her tear up with pride when you ask her about making these available to civilians." Steve stood up and stretched,  pocketing his new knife and gun. "You'll be fine. Just go ask her. I'm going to check in with you next week to make sure you talked to her."

 

Peter nodded. "Okay, sure, I'll talk to her."

 

"Just one tip." Peter looked at Steve expectantly. "Don't tell her you've thought about her masturbating before, even if it's true."

 

Peter turned a brilliant shade of red. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

 

Steve laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Never."

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky covered his face and slid down further into the booth as Clint continued to badger their waitress. "Tell me more about this." He pointed to a spot on the menu that advertised they had  _ REAL CREAM!! _ "Do you guys make your cream here? How do I know it's actually real cream?"

 

The waitress narrowed her eyes at him. She looked like she was weighing the pros and cons of telling Clint he was an asshole. Like, on one hand,  _ I finally told the real cream guy to knock it the fuck off he's been here like 10 times this week and he's always asking about the fucking cream fuck that guy _ , but on the other hand,  _ I need this fucking job to pay the bills and this guy with the bruises and the band aids is not worth being homeless. _ "You can ignore him , " Natasha  said. She was not having Clint's nonsense today. "I'll have the Banana Hazelnut Crepes, please."

 

Bucky took Nat's lead and ordered his food in an effort to get Clint on the right track. "I'll have the Crunchy Cinnamon French Toast." The waitress gave him a pained smile, most likely because the only option left now was for Clint to speak again.

 

"Can I have the Stuffed French Toast please?" The waitress sighed a breath of relief at Clint acting like a normal person. She tried to grab the menu from his hand, but he wouldn't let go. She tugged at it again with no success. "And can I have an extra heaping side of real cream." The waitress's eye twitched and Bucky figured she was weighing her options again. Clint released the menu and sat back with a smirk.

 

"Sorry," Bucky muttered as the waitress stalked away from their table.

 

Nat took a sip of her hot chocolate. "Clint. I will murder you if you make her job any more miserable than it already is."

 

"That threat gets old when you use it every day." Clint rolled his eyes, but quickly got very serious when Natasha held her knife up to his throat.

 

"Don't tempt me, bird man." She smiled at the toddler staring at her with wide eyes at the next table and set her knife back down on the table. "So , anyway, tell me more about your run in with Steve."

 

Bucky sighed. "I already told you everything. The Red Skull is going---"

 

"No, no. I got the Red Skull stuff under control. Clint is going suit shopping later today for you. I'm more curious about the Steve part. You skimped on details there." Her eyes were somehow more piercing over the rim of her cup.

 

"Why is Clint doing my suit shopping for me? I can go get one." It's not that Bucky didn't trust Clint, but, well, he didn't.

 

Natasha laughed. "When I say he's going shopping, I mean he's going to steal some clothes for us. 

Clint's theft skills are on a whole different level compared to yours."

 

Clint smiled and waved at the parents of the toddler at the next table who were now looking at him with wide eyes. "Hi, how are you?" They didn't answer.

 

"Anyway, tell me about Steve. You're not getting out of this."

 

"Steve killed the guys, I killed the lady, and then we kissed. I don't know. What else do you want me to say?" The grandma at the next table looked him up and down and nodded in appreciation, winking at him. Bucky honestly would have preferred the fear reaction.

 

Clint broke out into song, his voice in  soprano,  both very shrill and off key. " _ Tell me more, tell  _ _ me _ _ more like does he have a car?" _

 

Natasha joined in, her voice going much lower than it should have been able to. " _ Tell me more, tell me more, didja get very far _ ?"

 

"I think he has a car and no, we literally just kissed." Bucky was thankful for the arrival of the waitress as an excuse to stop talking about it.

"Can I get you anything else?" She looked terrified at the response she might get from Clint.

 

Clint smirked. "Yeah, can I get some---" Natasha grabbed her knife and very violently stabbed her crepes. "----uhh, extra...napkins? Please," Clint finished, voice going high at the end.

 

"How was the kiss?" Natasha was the best spy they had, but when it came to Bucky and Clint, she skipped any subtlety in favor of getting right at the good parts.

 

"Really, uh, nice. Very nice." Bucky stuffed his face with french toast. Natasha waited for him to stop chewing, making a motion with her hand that clearly said  _ I'm waiting, continue in glorious detail please. _ "I don't know. His hand was under my shirt. It was slick with blood which, like, normally isn't my thing because blood usually means pain, but it was some HYDRA dick bag's blood so it was actually a huge turn on because he's fucking good at his job."

 

The family at the next table abruptly stood up, the mother huffing with frustration every  thirty  seconds. The older woman walked up to Bucky as the rest of them walked away. She put her hand on his cheek and smiled at him. "You go find that boy and you fuck him. Or let him fuck you. Whatever makes you happy, sonny." There was a very agitated call of  _ GRANDMA!! _ from the other side of the restaurant. 

She patted his cheek a couple times and then walked away.

 

"I'm with grandma," Clint said, eating a spoonful of real cream.

 

Natasha nodded. "Same."

 

"It's not like I haven't thought about it." Bucky could feel his face turning bright red, so he looked at his french toast instead of at his friends, because his breakfast food has never mocked him or let him down. "But it's not like we've really had a chance."

 

Natasha shrugged, conceding the point. "Fair enough. But after the op tonight, we should have some down time."

 

"You're assuming we're all going to survive the op," Clint pointed out.

 

"Of course we are." Nat scoffed at him. "We always survive."

 

Bucky smiled. "She's got a point. We haven't died yet. Sure, if you compiled all of  the various injuries we've had, we've probably died about  a hundred collective deaths, but we haven't actually died yet."

 

"Ever the optimists." Clint stuffed his face with breakfast food. "But I can't argue with the logic."

 

Their waitress returned to the table. "Listen, you guys scared off that family that was seated next to you. We're all used to your weird murder talk , but can you guys, like, keep it down around the other customers?"

 

"Our sincerest apologies." Clint patted the girl on the arm. "We promise not to talk so loudly about overthrowing organizations that are a threat to all citizens and effectively saving all those nosy bitches' lives."

 

The waitress narrowed her eyes at him before responding in a deadpan. "Thanks." She turned to leave the table but hesitated, whirling around and pointing a finger at Clint. "And stop asking about the fucking cream." She dropped their check on the table and stormed off  before Clint could respond.

 

"Ungrateful," he sniffed. He picked up the bill and started fishing some money out of his wallet.

 

Bucky eyed the money on the table. "That's all you're leaving her for a tip? I think there's some unwritten law that says you have to tip at least 25% if you torture the wait staff."

 

Clint huffed and dropped another  twenty on the table. "Better?"

 

"Nothing will make up for the pain you consistently inflict on these poor waitresses, but yes, that's better. Now ,  let's get out of here before they kick us out." Natasha shoved Clint out of the booth and they made a hasty retreat before Clint managed to harass anyone else.

**< >**

Bucky threw the door of the warehouse open to find someone lounging on their beat up couch. He pulled out his gun and he heard Clint unsheathe a knife as he came into the 'house. Nat was the only one who didn't pull out a weapon.

 

Natasha strode towards the intruder confidently, stopping just in front of her. "What are you doing here?"

 

The woman spread her arm out, pointing at the three garment bags on the table. "I come bearing gifts."

 

"I see that. Doesn't explain what you're doing here." Natasha crossed her arms.

 

The woman looked at Clint and Bucky. "Can you ask them to lower their weapons? You know I'm  not here to hurt anyone." She gestured to her immaculate,  well-fitted business attire. "You don't think I'm carrying any weapons on me, do you?"

 

Natasha snorted. "I know you better than to assume you need a weapon to hurt someone." She looked over her shoulder anyway. "Stand down and stop lurking in the shadows. Come over here and meet my dear friend."

 

Bucky lowered his gun, but didn't stick it back in his holster. He glanced at Clint and noticed he also hadn't sheathed his knife. Running with Natasha had made taught them to be paranoid and habits died hard.

 

The woman stood up from the couch, straightening her skirt before sticking her hand out. "Pepper Potts, nice to meet you."

 

"Bucky." He shook her hand ,  but something about that name was setting off a bell in the back of his mind.

 

Clint introduced himself and shook her hand for far too long, but she took his strangeness in to stride and just kept smiling at him as he continued to shake her hand. "You've got a firm handshake. Strong hands. Are you good with a bow?"

 

Clint dropped her hand. "Good with a bow? That would be an understatement."

 

Pepper laughed. "And humble, too. I see why Natasha likes you."

 

"What are you doing here, Pepper?" Natasha asked.

 

Pepper opened her mouth to answer, but Bucky cut her off, suddenly remembering where he had heard her name before. "Did Steve send you here?"

 

Pepper looked at him with sharp eyes and Bucky had the feeling nothing got by her. "He didn't. But I'm curious as to the nature of your relationship and how you know I work with him." She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, a clear indication that she wasn't explaining why she was in their warehome until Bucky had explained himself.

 

"You could say we've worked together in the past," Bucky tried. Pepper did not look impressed. "I was there at Brew, Tea, and the Beast when he recruited Darcy. He told her to call the number on the card and ask for Pepper Potts." Bucky paused for a moment as a thought came into blinding clarity. "You're here to recruit us, aren't you?"

 

Pepper smiled and looked back at Natasha. "Quite the team you've assembled for yourself, Tasha. I'm glad. I'm here because I know that you're planning to be at the fundraising event tonight and I thought I'd save you a little time and bring some  eveningwear around for you. I think you'll find that they fit quite well, but if they don't, feel free to give us a call and we'll send down a tailor." She picked up her own jacket and headed for the door.

 

"That's it? You're just going to drop off some clothes and leave?" Natasha sounded weirdly disappointed. Bucky wasn't sure what to make of that.

 

Pepper turned around, her hand on the doorknob. "Would it do any good if I did anything else?" Natasha crossed her arms and scowled. "That's what I thought. Good luck tonight , you guys." And then she was gone.

 

"What the fuck was that?" Clint was still staring at the door where Pepper had left.

 

Natasha sighed. "An old friend of mine. We used to work together, but she decided she wanted to work for an agency instead of  staying freelance." She pulled a beautiful black, silk gown from one of the garment bags. A deep red pendant hung from the hanger as well.

 

Clint had pulled his own suit out of one of the other bags . I t was a classic black suit with a purple tie. "Well , if working for an agency means perks like free suits, I can see why she switched."

 

Natasha gritted her teeth. "She's trying to get us to join her agency."

 

Bucky pulled his own suit out of the bag. Black suit. Black shirt. Black tie. It was all sharp edges and sleek lines. "Would it really be so bad?"

 

"You're biased because she works with your boyfriend," Natasha accused  while s he was putting on the pendant . So, Bucky figured she wasn't actually that upset about Pepper's surprise visit.

 

Bucky laughed. "Not gonna lie, working for Hill seems to have some major benefits, seeing Steve on the regular and free suits included." Natasha looked at him like she felt betrayed. "But I would never break up the band. If you guys didn't go with me, I wouldn't work for her."  Natasha looked at the dress like it was a contract she wasn't willing to sign. "Nat. You can't block out everyone but us forever."

 

Clint had his tie looped around his neck in a messy knot. "I've got an idea." Natasha pretended to suppress a groan. "Let's treat tonight like a try out. If we like how it goes, we'll consider working with Hill. If you dislike one thing, even if it's something stupid like they use  off-brand weapons, we'll walk out of there the same way we walked in - alone, together. Us against the world."

 

Natasha smiled , "Deal." She draped the dress over her arm. "Now , get dressed. We have a party to get to."

 

* * *

 

 

Steve focused on the broad, smooth lines of T'Challa's shoulders, the comforting weight of Elektra's arm looped through his elbow. He tried his best to avoid eye contact with the guards at the doors. He was a terrible liar . T hat was Elektra and T'Challa's arena, so he left the conniving up to them and tried to keep as casual as possible.

 

T'Challa was doing a good job of playing the calm, cool, collected party-goer. "I think you'll find you're quite mistaken if you take another look at the list , "  he said while Elektra huffed. She was doing a good job of playing the antsy, frustrated, overly spoiled party-goer. Steve wasn't sure what part he was supposed to be playing , so he mostly just stood there, waiting for some cue from either one of them.

 

"No, I'm not. Your name is on the list, sir . However, the names of your guests are not. They're going to have to leave." The guard crossed his arms in a way that said 'ask again and you're getting thrown the fuck out'.

 

T'Challa clucked. "Alright, well, have it your way. I'm sure Mr. Schmidt will be disappointed to hear you turned away one of his honored guests and two very, very wealthy friends who were looking to become donors to Mr. Schmidt's campaign. I'll have  to inform him he lost an extra  two million because---- , " he pulled out his phone and squinted, trying to read the guard's name tag , "----Norman? Is that your name, Norman?" The guard hurried to cover his name tag. "Because  _ Norman _ wouldn't let us into the party."

 

"Hope you have a day job, Norman , " Elektra scoffed and turned to leave, pulling at Steve's elbow.

 

"Wait! Wait. I'm sure...I'm sure there was a mix up. Please, please, come in." The guard opened the door so quickly that it swung back out of his grip and closed again. He straightened his jacket and gently pulled the door open. "Welcome to the party."

 

T'Challa nodded at him as he passed. Elektra gave a prim "hmmph". Steve didn't know what to do so he just ignored the guard and looked straight ahead. T'Challa  led  them to a small round table on the periphery of the party. It had good sight lines and was  located close to an exit.

 

"Well Steven, I was a little worried about your inability to lie ,  but your icy indifference really worked." Elektra pulled three flutes of Champagne from a tray that passed by and downed hers immediately.

 

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. "I wasn't trying for icy indifference. I was just trying to be subtle."

 

"You tried," T'Challa said, patting Steve on the shoulder. "There are just some things that cannot be taught." He looked past Steve's shoulder and an uncharacteristic smile broke out over his face. Steve turned to see Sam coming down a grand staircase.

 

Elektra grabbed more Champagne from another tray as Sam made his way over to them. "This one is strawberry flavored." She grimaced and gave the half-full flute to Steve.

 

"Don't give it to me! I hate Champagne." Steve pushed the flute across to T'Challa.

 

"I would pay good money to have a picture of the face Steve made the first time he had Champagne," Sam said as he came up to their table. He scrunched up his face in what Steve thought was  _ not at all _ an accurate recreation of his own face. Elektra laughed nonetheless, her arm shaking with giggles where it was still looped around his elbow.

 

"Whatever," Steve grumbled. "I'm assuming your presence here means your solo rooftop activities were successful?"

 

"If by 'rooftop activities' you mean, 'killing all the fuckin bad guys and coming in through the roof access stairwell'? Then yes, you'd be correct. He sure as hell didn't do it solo though." Bucky smirked at him, coming up to their table with two other people in tow. Steve tried to hide his goony smile.

 

Sam laughed, obviously amused by Steve's inability to hide his emotions. "Your boy has some talented friends."

 

Bucky laughed. "Steve, I'd like you to meet my associates---"

 

The man next to Bucky stuck out his hand. "Flint Birbton. Nice to meet you." Steve warily shook the man's hand. "And this my beautiful wife, the crown jewel of Russia, the most elegant ballerina, the foremost expert on arachnids, Miss Catasha Birbton."

 

Steve exchanged a glance with the woman before placing his hand, palm up, in front of her. She placed her hand in his and be bowed slightly to kiss the top of her hand. "Your highness."

 

She laughed at him, but tightened her grip on his hand. Steve tried not to wince as she pulled his torso across the table towards her. "I am not a princess. I know nothing about spiders. If you call me Catasha I will stab you repeatedly in the chest and if you even so much as  _ think _ about hurting James you will wish all I'd done was stab you. Do you understand me?"

 

"I feel like you might be making a scene," T'Challa pointed out. Elektra agreed, but Steve could feel the pure joy rolling off of her at the sight of a woman putting a man in his place.

 

Steve pulled away from her to avoid gathering anymore unwanted attention. "Understood. What should I call you then?"

 

"Natasha." She nodded at the man claiming to be her husband. "His name is Clint ,  but I don't really care if you call him Flint instead."

 

Clint gasped. "I can't believe you would disrespect your own husband---"

 

"She's not your wife until you actually propose." Bucky sighed like this was not the first time he'd reminded Clint of this fact.

 

Sam, ever the social situation navigation expert, deftly steered the conversation in a new direction. "You all clean up pretty nice for some freelance mercenaries."

 

Bucky laughed, bumping his shoulder into Steve. "Your girl came by with new clothes for us."

 

"My girl, as in, Elektra?" Steve looked at her, but she just shook her head. "Oh, was it Director Hill?"

 

"Nope." Bucky stole one of the Champagne flutes in  front of Steve. Steve did not protest.

 

"Was it Karen?"

 

"No."

 

"Trish?"

 

"...No."

 

"Jessica?"

 

Natasha sighed. "Just how many girls do you have, Steve?" She narrowed her eyes at where Elektra's arm was still looped through his.

 

Sam tried to suppress a laugh, resulting in a loud snorting noise.

 

"None!" He quickly relaxed his arm so Elektra would get the hint to let go of him. "I have no girls! Zero girls being had by me. Absolutely none." Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him. "Also no guys. Well, just like one guy. Kind of? I don't know. Maybe I'm being presumptuous. It's not like we've talked about it or anything, so I can't say for sure. But like, I'd  _ like _ to be having a guy. A very specific guy."

 

T'Challa looked away from him with  an expression on his face that could best be described as second hand humiliation, but Bucky was looking at him with a bright smile and mischievous eyes, so Steve could handle T'Challa's disappointment.

 

"Jesus Christ," Clint swore under his breath. "You sure do know how to pick em, Barnes."

 

Elektra sighed. "I think we've terrorized Steven enough. We should focus on the mission at hand. Why don't you boys do what you do best and walk around looking like you're getting things done while us ladies actually do all the work?"

 

Natasha gave her an appraising look. "Oh, I like her."

 

"Lord help us," Clint whispered. "There's two of them."

 

"As a man who literally just killed three rooftop guards while  you strolled in through the door, I take offense at that statement." Sam surveyed the room. "We need to spread out and find Schmidt. I guess we need some kind of signal , since you three aren't on our comms?"

 

"Not necessary." T'Challa reached into his suit and pulled out three earpieces and put them on the table. "They're on our comms now."

 

Elektra smirked at him. "Do you always walk around with Stark tech in your suit?"

 

"Pepper had a feeling I'd need them," he answered with a smile.

 

"Pepper!" Steve slapped his hand against the table. "I should have known you were talking about Pepper. Just for the record, she's not my girl. Or anyone's girl. Well, maybe you could say she's Tony's girl but really I think Tony is her guy , if you know what I mean?"

 

Natasha stared at him. "Is he always like this?"

 

Sam looked delighted by her question. "This oblivious? Yes." Steve looked at Sam with a 'thanks a lot pal' glare. Sam was unaffected. "This jittery and word-vomitty? No. I think you're bringing out the best in him, Natasha."

 

Clint laughed. "She always does. She's good at intimidating men. Now, what's our code word or whatever if we find Schmidt?"

 

"How about, 'Wow, man, your steel wings are even cooler than the last time I saw you and we beat each other up'?" Bucky smirked at Clint over the top of his Champagne flute and Steve took the moment of distraction to openly stare at Bucky without him noticing. His hair was swept up and off to the side in a perfect, natural swoop. There was a shadow along his jaw where his stubble was already growing back even though the scent of aftershave suggested he had just shaved this evening. Someone, most likely Natasha, had done a pretty good job of using makeup to hide the bruises Steve had trailed along his neck last night. It wasn’t enough to prevent the collar of his shirt from rubbing away some of the concealer and an exposed piece of a blue-purple bruise contrasted nicely with the pitch black of his shirt. Steve silently prayed to all the gods to thank them for Pepper Potts, because Bucky's suit fit him perfectly. He could appreciate how amazing Bucky looked in his suit, but frankly, Steve mostly just wanted to get him out of it.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by Clint spluttering. "Okay, you know what, I think I'm allowed to be impressed by a set of fucking steel wings."

 

"Everything about Sam is impressive." T'Challa didn't acknowledge the fact that he just made a sweet remark and instead moved on to what were clearly more important matters. "The phrase will be 'have you tried the strawberry champagne’. When you hear the phrase, meet back at this table and we'll figure out the best way to approach the situation. There are a lot of civilians here as well as security and HYDRA agents, so we need to be strategic."

"We should probably split up," Sam suggested.

 

"Dibs on Natasha!" Clint crowed.

 

Elektra cleared her throat. "I also want dibs on Natasha." She grinned like a wolf and Steve was overcome with the feeling that some unholy, kickass partnership had been forged between her and Natasha despite them only having exchanged a total of about  five words.

 

"Alright. I am more than okay with this. Meet you guys back here." Clint linked his other arm with Elektra and allowed himself to be steered away from the table by the two most terrifying women in the room.

 

"On one hand, I want to avoid pairing off with our boyfriends like this is some kind of high school dance, but on the other hand I know you work well together." Sam pointed at Steve and Bucky. "You two behave." T'Challa huffed a laugh ,  but followed Sam away from the table.

 

Bucky smiled at Steve. "Well, looks like it's just you and me. What are the chances?"

 

"You know, Sam once told me that once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern." He found himself surprised to realize this was the sixth time he had run into Bucky. "At this rate, we're way past 'pattern'. It's more like 'inescapable' at this point."

 

"Inescapable , " Bucky mulled the word over. "Would you escape if you could?"

 

Steve leaned into Bucky, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear as he whispered, "Not a chance. You're stuck with me now." He was gratified to see a blush creeping its way up Bucky's neck. Steve dragged his finger over the barely visible bruise  there  and Bucky gave a little shiver. "You know, this suit looks really good on you. I bet--"

 

"He bets it would look really good on his bedroom floor, too." Steve cringed at Tony's voice coming through their comms. "Cap, stop seducing your boyfriend and get to work. You can peel that ridiculously amazing suit off of him later. Right now, you have a bad guy to find."

 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Q."

 

"Q! No way! The guy with the locks and cameras?" Bucky was way more excited about having Tony on the other end of the comm than he should have been. Steve envied his innocence Re: Tony Stark.

 

Tony clicked his tongue on the other end. "I got a lot more than locks and cameras, pal. Maybe if you play your cards right, you can see my whole arsenal."

 

"That sounds like a weird come on , " Bucky frowned at Steve.

 

Steve pulled him away from the table in the opposite direction that Sam and T'Challa had gone. "It always does with Tony."

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky was scanning the room, trying to pay less attention to the conversation Steve had been sucked into. Somebody had pulled Steve aside and launched  into this huge tirade about needing to save the fireflies. Bucky hadn't been aware they were in danger, but now that he knew , he was getting kind of sad. He liked fireflies - they were fucking beautiful and they reminded him of clear night skies, warm green grass, and soft breezes.

 

Steve nodded solemnly along with the man who was waving his arms all over the place. "I agree, we do need to protect the magic of nature. What can we do to fix it?"

 

The man took a deep breath, ready to drop some truth bombs on Steve, but he was interrupted by the arrival of some sleazy looking guy. "Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, you're wanted in the penthouse."

Firefly guy gave Sleazeball a look that said  _ how dare you interrupt my crusade to save the lightening bugs _ . Bucky had to agree with Firefly guy.

 

Bucky clocked the gun in Sleazeball's jacket. "Wanted by who exactly?" Sleazeball didn't say anything, but gently patted the spot where his gun was, as if that was some kind of answer.

 

Bucky looked at Steve and raised an eyebrow. Steve shrugged. It looked like he was trying to say something with just his eyes but, honestly, they weren't on a level where Bucky could decipher it.

Steve sighed. "Alright then, lead the way."

 

Bucky walked next to Steve as they followed Sleazeball to the elevator. Steve gave him the same look from before, but Bucky still wasn't getting it - he squinted his eyes and shook his head, trying to convey that he was not understanding the silent communication. The elevator was lined with mirrors and Steve stopped trying to speak with his eyes. Although, why he was worried about Sleazeball seeing the look was beyond Bucky - if he couldn't tell what Steve was trying to say, there was no way some low grade henchie was going to get it.

 

They rode the elevator in painful silence up several floors. A bright, cheery  _ ding _ sounded as the doors slid open to reveal a hall with a door at the end. Sleezeball pulled out his gun and shooed Bucky and Steve out of the elevator with it. He pointed at the door and grunted.

 

Bucky looked over his shoulder. "You're not even going to walk us to our door? Not very gentlemanly of you, Sleazy."

 

"I hope he kills you both," Sleazeball responded as the elevator doors shut.

 

"That doesn't bode very well for us, does it?" Bucky looked at Steve to find  he was already staring at him.

 

"Listen, I was trying to tell you the comms are dead. Something is wrong. Whatever is on the other side of this door is most definitely bad news." Steve frowned and Bucky laughed out loud, because he hadn't even noticed the comms were dead. He was so used to their shitty tech that radio silence was normal for him. "I. I don't see why you're laughing?"

 

Bucky cleared his throat. "No, you're right. I shouldn't be laughing. I'm just in a weird place right now because the comms are always fucking down, we just got lead to a creepy door at gunpoint, I'm worried about the fireflies, and you look really fucking good in that suit, and I'm just really not sure what emotions I'm supposed to be feeling right now? Laughter is kind of like, my go-to defense mechanism."

 

Steve stepped closer to him, his face just inches away. "You think I look good in this suit? You should see me out of this suit." Bucky's lips curled up in a smile and the laugh bubbling up his throat was cut off as all the breath in his body escaped when Steve kissed him. Steve's hands trailed over Bucky's chest and he gave an involuntary shiver.

 

Bucky knew in the back of his mind that he really shouldn't be putting so much stock in a kiss with a man he barely knew, but the feel of Steve's lips against his, warm and soft and so  _ sure _ , was very comforting.

 

"Okay. All previous emotions have been pushed aside to make room for blinding lust," Bucky breathed out as Steve pulled away.

 

"Well, I hope it's blood lust and  not  regular lust, because I have a feeling we're going to need to kill some people when we open that door." Steve stepped back and pulled a knife out of his jacket, slipping it carefully into the sleeve of his coat for easy access.

 

Bucky unbuttoned his jacket so that he could quickly reach his gun. "I don't see why the two are mutually exclusive. Something about seeing you murder people really gets me in the zone."

 

"I can assure you, the feeling is mutual." Steve stepped forward, his hand on the doorknob. "Ready?"

 

Bucky took one big breath in and slowly exhaled. "Ready."

 

Steve threw the door open and Bucky followed immediately after him, ready for anything. Or, at least, he thought he was ready for anything, but the sight of their friends bound and gagged stopped him cold in his tracks. His attention was quickly drawn to a man waltzing into the room, dragging Natasha along with a gun to her head. She looked like she had put up a good fight ,  but she had at least a broken wrist and possibly a sprained ankle.  _ No. No no. No no nonononoooo. _ Bucky pulled out his gun and Steve pulled his knife out. "Ah, ah. Put down the weapons. Or I blow her brains out." Bucky held his gun steady, but Natasha shook her head, her eyes pleading with him to listen. This guy was clearly the brains of the operation, which meant he had to be Johann Schmidt. 

 

Bucky put his gun down on the ground and Steve followed suit, dropping his knife in front of him.  The henchie who had been holding a gun to Sam stalked over to collect their weapons. Bucky had no extra weapons with him, but apparently Steve did, because the guy pulled a gun out of Steve’s jacket. 

 

“This is a pretty fancy lookin’ gun,” the henchman noted. He aimed it at Sam and pulled the trigger. Bucky flinched, ready for chaos to break loose, but nothing happened. The gun had remained silent. As in, inoperationally silent. He tried firing it again, checked the safety, and fired again. Nothing happened. 

 

“Performance issues?” Bucky smiled at the guy, but he just frowned back. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard it’s very common, especially among men who associate with the literal scum of the earth and have shit for brains.”

 

The henchman shoved the gun in Bucky’s face and pulled the trigger. Once again, unsurprisingly, the gun did not go off. Schmidt narrowed his eyes at the henchman. “Are you done?” he hissed. The guard gritted his teeth before bitterly shoving the gun back into Steve’s jacket and resuming his station by the prisoners. 

 

Schmidt cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. "I believe the phrase you're looking for is, 'have you tried the strawberry Champagne'." He surveyed the room. "But I suppose your friends are all painfully aware that you've located me, so there's no need to use the code. I know it seems excessive, having all of them here for this, but if you cooperate, none of them have to die."

 

Steve's fists clenched at his sides. "What do you want?" Bucky had never heard him sound so angry, not even that first night when he stole Strucker out from under him.

 

"It's quite simple, Rogers. I want the two of you to work for me. You've managed to take down  five of my organizational pillars seemingly single handedly. You're the best at what you do and I could use your skills." Schmidt smiled. "Your friends can go free if you agree to stay."

 

"Fuck you," Bucky spat.

 

Steve laughed. "Honestly, Schmidt? You think we would work for HYDRA, after spending so much time and energy tearing it down? You're insane."

 

"I think, given the right incentive, you will decide to work for me. The incentive being that if you work for me, your friends get to live. If you try to resist, your friends all die slow, painful deaths in front of you, because of you." Schmidt smiled, like this was a pleasant discussion about the weather.

 

There was silence as Bucky and Steve considered the options. There really weren't any. They were outnumbered and outgunned. Steve gave Bucky another meaningful look, which he could once again not decipher , but he got the feeling Steve had a plan. He fucking hoped Steve had a plan. 

 

"Send the guards away so we know our friends will be safe, then we can sign a contract or whatever it is you want. But we're not doing anything until the guards all leave." Steve crossed his arms in a way that Bucky assumed was meant to be intimidating , but really just looked petulant.

 

Schmidt nodded. "Alright. All of you, leave. Lock the door on the way out." The henchman all abandoned their posts and filed out of the room, the door closing with a resounding click as the last one left. Schmidt still had Natasha at gunpoint. "I've held up my end of the deal. Now, let's talk details."

 

Bucky narrowed his eyes. "I'd rather die than work for you."

 

"Well, that wasn't part of the deal, but I can offer an alternative. How about she dies instead?" Natasha jostled just enough as Schmidt pulled the trigger that his shot went wildly off course and missed her head completely, which was the good news. The horrible news was that the bullet had found its home in Natasha's chest. She fell to the floor as blood, stark red against her pale skin, started pouring from the wound. Schmidt looked down at her with a look of shock, like he had never actually done his own dirty work before.

 

Bucky took advantage of the distraction and lunged at Schmidt, tackling him to the ground. The gun flew from Schmidt's hand , out of reach  for  either of them. Bucky wrestled with Schmidt on the ground briefly before managing to drag him into a standing headlock position. Bucky had his arm wrapped around Schmidt's neck, but he was struggling too much for Bucky to be able to apply any real pressure.

 

Schmidt kept yelling unintelligibly, throwing his elbows wildly. He made contact with Bucky’s temple on one particularly crazy flail, and Bucky’s ears  started ringing. 

 

Steve pulled his gun out and had it trained on Schmidt.

 

Bucky recognized that at this distance, if Steve’s gun was working, the bullet would travel straight through Schmidt and directly into Bucky's own body. Thankfully, Steve’s gun was a piece of shit and he didn’t have to worry about getting shot with a bullet that had passed through a fucking HYDRA douche bag’s body. Bucky deliriously thought this was hilarious - the agents working for Hill had broken weapons and the comms were down and everything was awful because Schmidt was digging around in his pocket, muttering about bombs.

 

Steve's hand was shaking. "Do you trust me, Buck?"

 

Natasha's words flooded in his brain,  _ You can never trust anyone _ , but Bucky ignored them. "With my life."

 

Steve smiled at him and brought his other hand up to steady his gun. Schmidt was yelling some shit about Hail Hydra and cutting off heads, but Bucky had heard that enough in the last few weeks to last a lifetime. Steve's gun went off three times and Bucky had about half a second to close his eyes and freak the fuck out about the imminent injury before Schmidt's body went silent and still in his arms. Bucky dropped the body and cracked an eye open, expecting the pain to flood his body at any moment.

 

Instead, he opened his eyes to find the air shimmering in front of him. "Am I dead? Is this heaven? Is that why everything looks shimmery?"

 

Steve had the audacity to laugh and the shimmering plane disappeared. Steve was crouched over Natasha, ripping off his jacket to apply pressure to her wound. "I hope you're not dead, otherwise Stark is going to be very angry his forcefield pin technology doesn't work."

 

Bucky looked down at his chest to find an American flag pinned to his lapel. "When did that get there? And why did your gun suddenly work?"

 

Steve hauled Natasha up in his arms. "I put it there earlier and that’s the magic of Stark tech. Now untie our friends. We need to get out of here."

 

Bucky snapped out of his trance, hurrying to untie everyone. He was nearly done when the large picture windows exploded, raining glass down on everyone in the room as two people barrel rolled into the room. Bucky grabbed a piece of glass and sliced through the rope at T'Challa's wrists before spinning to face the new threat. It wouldn't do much good against a gun, but a shard of glass was better than nothing.  _ Anything can be a weapon if you try hard enough. Anything can be a weapon if you try hard enough. Anything can be a weapon--- _

 

"Stand down, Dumpster Babe, we come in peace." The man held up his hands in a placating gesture, but Bucky just narrowed his eyes at him, still gripping the glass. The guy rolled his eyes. "Please, I'm not intimidated by you. I know for a fact you cuddle dogs during assassination attempts."

 

Bucky dropped the glass when he realized Pepper was the other person who had rolled into the penthouse. She had already rushed over to help Steve with Natasha, who was trying to wave them both away. "Who the fuck are you and why did you call me Dumpster Babe?"

 

"Yeah, I'll have you know, I'm the resident dumpster king around here." Clint stood next to Bucky and crossed his arms.

 

Pepper gave a long suffering sigh. "Bucky, Clint, Natasha, this is Tony, aka Q. Technology and Weapons Specialist for Hill, Inc."

 

Tony walked over and tapped Bucky on the chest where the flag was pinned to his suit. "I'm the reason you're still alive. And I just assumed you were dumpster diving with your dear friend , Flint."

 

"Can we get Natasha on the jet  _ before _ she bleeds to death?" Steve still had Natasha draped in his arms. She looked more ready to murder Steve for taking care of her than she was ready to bleed to death, so Bucky figured she was fine.

 

Natasha scoffed. "I'm not some damsel in distress. I don't need you to carry me onto the jet. I can do it myself."

 

Steve smiled at her. "Oh, I'm fully aware that you're a strong, independent woman. But being vertical is going to make the blood rush worse and I'd rather not have you pass out."

 

"He has a point." Some random fucking dude  said from where he was  hanging in  the  window now. "The jet is parked out here on the landing pad, but it's only a matter of time before we get noticed. I can take care of Natasha's wound on the jet."

 

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the new guy. "Now who the fuck is this?"

 

"Oh. Sorry. Hi. Bruce Banner. Medic." Banner gave a small smile and a wave. "I can wrap your hand up too."

 

Bucky looked down and realized his hand was bleeding from gripping the glass shard. Huh. He hadn't even realized that had happened.

 

There was a pounding at the door and Tony clapped his hands together. "Well, that sounds like our invitation to leave. Scurry along now, children." He stood at the window and waved his arm, making sure everyone got through ahead of him.

 

Bucky stopped and tried to push Tony through the window. "Go on. I'll follow you."

 

Tony pulled something out of his pocket. "Listen, pal. I only get into the field like once a year. This is my chance to test out this grenade with a controlled blast zone outside of the safety of my lab. I'm waiting for some assholes to come through that door and I'm going to throw this grenade at them. I'd really rather not have you waiting around and getting limbs blown off in the process of my experiment." There was more pounding and the hinges were straining on the door. Tony pulled the pin on his grenade. "So, just get on the jet because I think Steve would kill me if I hurt you."

 

Bucky didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded and climbed out the window and headed for the jet. He heard the door burst open and Tony yell something, which he took as his cue to  _ run _ to the jet. He had just gotten aboard when Tony rolled  into the jet behind him  and  then they were airborne, the door sliding closed on a fiery explosion down below.

 

Sam looked out the window and laughed as they flew away from the wreckage. "Hill is never going to let you out in the field again. There's going to be nothing left for Karen and Jane to find down there."

 

"He's just saving them the effort," Elektra pointed out. She was braiding Nat's hair as Banner worked to close the gunshot wound on her chest. "They'll be grateful for it."

 

Clint was on the other side of Elektra, holding Nat's hand and brushing the stray hairs from her face. Banner silently worked around the two of them, which Bucky respected. He would have been stabbing Clint with a scalpel to get him out of the way if he were in Banner's position. It wouldn't have been the first time, actually.

 

"I'm no medic, but I know how to wrap a cut." Steve held up some gauze and tape in front of Bucky and nodded over to some seats in the back of the jet. Bucky sat in the seat across from the window so he could watch the night sky as they flew towards...wherever the fuck they were going. Bucky realized how much he had come to trust Steve over such a short period of time. Steve took his hand and put it palm up in his lap while he wiped away the extra blood with a cloth. "We're headed back to headquarters, by the way." Steve unraveled some gauze and started gently wrapping Bucky's palm with the soft material. "Hill is going to be there and she's going to want to talk to you guys."

 

Bucky watched as Steve wrapped up his palm. He had seen Steve kill a man with his bare hands and something about watching him use those same hands to heal him sent a warm feeling through his chest. "She's going to want to talk to us or she's going to want to recruit us?" Steve just laughed. "What is her recruitment style compared to Pepper?"

 

Steve ripped a piece of medical tape from the roll using his teeth, which Bucky found disproportionately attractive. "Hill certainly isn't going to give you any more presents to bribe you." His eyes raked over the suit Bucky was wearing and he had a feeling Steve was very grateful for the presents he had already received. "She's more of a 'here's your options but you better decide to work for me' kind of person."

 

Bucky considered that. "And if we decide not to work for her? Will there be... _ consequences _ ?" Steve had finished wrapping his hand , but he still held it gently in his lap.

 

"You make it sound like she's going to send you away in a body bag if you turn her down." Steve laughed. "She's not going to make you stay, but she'd be disappointed if you decided not to." He pulled Bucky's hand up to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. "I'd be disappointed too." Steve looked up at him through his eyelashes, his soft lips pressed to Bucky's hand.

 

Bucky gently removed his hand from Steve's and abruptly pulled him in for a kiss as Steve's suit jacket bunched up in his fist. Steve's hand landed on his knee and Bucky could feel the heat of his palm as he slowly worked his way up Bucky's thigh. Bucky shifted, leaning more into Steve, trying to get closer as Steve's hand curled possessively around his hip. He was starting to wonder if anyone would even notice if he just climbed into Steve's lap when there was an announcement over the jet speakers.

 

A posh voice filled the jet cabin. "We are beginning descent. Landing at headquarters in approximately  three minutes."

 

"Thank you, Jarvis." Tony sat down and buckled himself into a chair. "While I'm sure Steve's arms of steel are an excellent safety measure, I'd suggest strapping in with your harness. I haven't really had a chance to test how well Jarvis can land the jet yet. Test runs tend to be a little shaky."

 

Bucky rolled his eyes , but did as he was told. "Sounds like Jarvis could use a few lessons from Clint."

 

"Give him a break; he's doing really well for a newborn AI." Tony smirked at him. "But I'm sure the dumpster king could show him a thing or two, if you guys decide to stick around. And I promise, the comms are usually not so easily hacked."

 

"Is everyone on this jet trying to recruit us?" Natasha groaned as she sat up and buckled herself into a chair. Bucky was pleased to see the bleeding had been stopped and she was only grimacing when she moved her arm. The injury must not have been that bad.

 

T'Challa nodded. "You're excellent agents. We could really use your expertise."

 

"We need more women around the office. Someone has to keep the boys out of trouble." Elektra gave Nat a smirk and Bucky was once again terrified at what kind of Hell could be unleashed by the pair of them.

 

Sam laughed. "Honestly, I just don't want to deal with Steve moping around if you guys leave." Bucky raised an eyebrow at Steve, who just shrugged in response, like he was saying  _ yeah, I'd mope and I'm not ashamed. _

 

The jet landed with more finesse than Bucky would have expected from a computer program. "And you guys wouldn't have to live in a warehouse anymore. We have really great benefits." Pepper  added as she typ ed away on a tablet while simultaneously removing her harness. Bucky suspected she was already drawing up some kind of hiring documents.

 

The jet door slid open to reveal a woman standing on the hangar, her hands behind her back, hair pulled up in a no-nonsense bun. "Welcome back everyone. Stark, Potts, Banner, Wilson, T'Challa, Natchios and Rogers - fall out." Judging by the way everyone hustled to comply, Bucky assumed this was Hill.

 

Steve gave Bucky's hand one quick squeeze. "Remember, no body bag. You have a choice here. You'll always have a choice." And then he left.

 

Hill strolled onto the jet. "Barnes. Barton. Nice to meet you." She nodded at Natasha. "Romanoff. You've looked better."

 

Clint threw his hands up. "Do you secretly know everyone?" Natasha shrugged, clearly not ready to give up all of her secrets yet.

 

"I think you all know that I want you to join the team. So , here's your chance. You can join us at Hill, Inc. and have a comfortable job, or you can continue to live in a warehouse and scrape by, just trying to survive. If you decide to leave, Jarvis will take you back to the warehouse now. What will it be?"

 

Bucky looked at Clint and saw immediately that he would do whatever Natasha decided to do . N ot because he was following her blindly, but because he just wanted her to be happy and he'd do anything to make  that  happen.

 

Natasha locked eyes with Bucky and a feeling of overwhelming  _ want _ was there. He could tell she wanted to say yes, she wanted to have a home, she wanted to have a team of wild women and sassy tech specialists. She wanted to trust people again. But she was going to leave it up to him to make the call.

 

Bucky considered his options. He loved working with Natasha and Clint - they were the unstoppable murder squad and they could do whatever the fuck they wanted because they answered to no one. But he looked at Natasha's chest, where there had been a gaping hole before and he was overcome with the feeling that it was only a matter of time before they ran into something too big, too dangerous, and one of them wasn't going to make it.

 

Bucky's lips curled up in a smile. "What's your policy on office relationships?" Judging by the cheer that went up from somewhere inside the hangar, the others had been eavesdropping.

 

Hill rolled her eyes. "I don't care what you do in your spare time, Barnes. The only rule is no fucking in the field. Now , get some rest. We'll talk details tomorrow." She turned on her heel and stalked off across the hangar. Bucky helped Clint support Natasha as they climbed out of the jet.

 

Sam was grinning as they walked up to the other agents. "Welcome to the team. My place is just a few blocks away if you wanted somewhere to crash." T'Challa glared at him, obviously not pleased with the idea of someone else staying at Sam's place.

 

"My place is closer and my spare bed is more comfortable," Elektra offered.

 

"And Murdock is out on a mission tonight," T'Challa pointed out, giving Sam a  _ look _ . Sam was either blissfully unaware of the glare he was receiving, or he was choosing to ignore it. Either way, Bucky was amused.

 

Natasha laughed, whether it was at T'Challa's obvious annoyance or at people clamoring to have them sleep in their beds was up for debate. "Closer is better. I'm exhausted. Show us the way, Elektra." Bucky went to follow, still supporting part of Nat's weight.

 

Elektra pushed him out from under Natasha's arm, slipping easily into his place. "Sorry, James. Spare bed only sleeps two. You'll have to find alternative lodging." She gave Steve a wink before walking off with Nat and Clint.

 

"My spare bed is still up for grabs if yo---" Sam was silenced by T'Challa pulling him in for a kiss. They broke apart, breathless. "Never mind. No room at my place. Good night." He wrapped his arm around T'Challa's waist and pulled him away towards the building.

 

Bucky turned to Steve, who was watching Sam and T'Challa saunter away, giggling at each other. "Well, looks like it's just you and me again."

 

Steve blushed at him and Bucky was reminded of that first night he had seen Steve, standing out on a corner, bathed in the pale light of a street lamp. "I don't have a spare bed."

 

"Steve, I think we both know that even if you had a spare bed, that's not where I'd be sleeping." He closed the distance between them, wrapping one hand around Steve's hip and the other around his neck.

 

Steve laughed. "Awfully presumptuous of you to assume I'd let you in my bed." His hand had snaked under Bucky's jacket, the heat of his palm radiating through his shirt and warming the small of his back. Steve leaned in, pressing kisses along Bucky's jaw.

 

"I have it on pretty good authority that I'm stuck with you now." Steve pulled back and grinned at him, the smile reaching his bright blue eyes. "Besides, I always get my guy," Bucky said while he pulled him in by the tie and kissed him. He could feel Steve still smiling through the kiss and a warm, content feeling curled through his chest.

 

He could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://herobuckybarnes.tumblr.com), where I cry about Steve and Bucky and other fictional characters on the regular.


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